


Home of the present

by crimsonepitaph



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonepitaph/pseuds/crimsonepitaph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared Padalecki is a failing tennis legend striving for a comeback. Jensen Ackles is the unwitting photographer co-opted in the makeover project, a biography meant to change the game. Single dad, definitely not a fan of Padalecki's, and a cynical human being in general, Jensen takes the job out of necessity, and gears for a year long charade. But what happens when Jensen discovers more than he signed up for - not just about Padalecki, but about himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's note #1:** Title is inspired by this quote: "Mindfulness helps you go home to the present, and every time you go there, and recognize a condition of happiness that you have, happiness comes." Thich Nhat Hanh
> 
>  **Author's note #2:** Written for this year's round of spn_meanttobe, based on prompt #42 from here: Summaries. As you can gather from the lack of torture, death and general dark themes in the warnings, this is something a little different from my usual stories. It felt good to get into the feel-good spirit of the meant-to-be! :)
> 
>  **Author's note #3:** As always, borgmama1of5 is owed a huge, huge thank you for helping me shape this story into something with coherence. She's a fantastic beta, who, beyond typos and grammar, helps me build the story from the ground up in a sensible way, with advice, a fresh perspective, and a whole lot of patience.
> 
>  **Author's note #4:** This was, in part, inspired by Rafael Nadal's autobiography. No intentional similarities, but I used details from the tennis world for reference.

 

 

_2003_

_PADALECKI RECEIVES STAR OF TOMORROW AWARD_

_Jared Padalecki, the 20-year-old tennis sensation, has been awarded the ATP Star of Tomorrow title for his remarkable performance in 2003, which includes two Grand Slam quarterfinals. Padalecki’s surprising presence in the final stages of numerous tournaments on the men’s circuit comes as a result of “hard work, focus, and determination,” according to Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Padalecki’s coach of two years.  
_

_“The kid is a magician with a racquet in his hand,” Christian Kane, former World Number One, comments. “I’m not entirely sure whether it’s native talent, or the great strength to play the cards he’s dealt each match just right,” Kane explains, joining the increasing number of players and experts that are trying to figure out the new element Padalecki has brought to his game._

_Some say it’s the sheer force of his shots, while some attribute his newfound success to the unexpected finesse he finds in the critical moments of the game. “One thing is clear,” Kane concludes, “Padalecki’s definitely the player to watch in the upcoming season.”_

_The 2004 season opens second week of January, with a week-long tournament in Doha, Qatar._  
  


~  
  


SEPTEMBER 2015

Jensen presses the shutter button on his camera. The tiny click is barely audible.

To him, it is as loud as a shot.

Heavy silence blankets the arena, a mute, disappointed anticipation of an end coming too soon.

Jensen registers the sharp crack of the racquets’ strings meeting the ball, the intrusive screech of the players’ sports shoes dragging on the hard surface.

Then an explosion of sound, and the surroundings glow brighter, the background comes to life. Flags and banners wave around, crisp expressions of indistinct, encouraging shouts.

Match point.

One more point, and Padalecki is done.

The man that stared from the cover of every sports magazine, proud smirk on his face at every press conference, the player that for years stepped foot on the court and _owned it._

That was Padalecki, a player whose mere reputation used to intimidate his competition.

This?

This is just a second-rate player trying to get back to a past glory.

Jensen hears the string of barely muffled irritated shouts as Padalecki’s once-precise shots desert him.

Padalecki’s been dropped to seventh seed for the US Open, and he isn’t even going to make it past the first round.

Through the lens of Jensen’s expensive camera, the ninety minute match is an interminable display of frustration. The story of the game can be told through an array of snapshots of Padalecki’s face: pursing his lips at every point, shaking his head angrily, muttering at the referee, features twisted in simmering anger and frustration.

It’s strange, watching the fall of a titan under the gaze of thousands of spectators. It’s the tragedy of greatness becoming worthless.

Padalecki is a legend who seems all too human now.

And Jensen feels little sympathy. The man had possessed superior skills, but never the corresponding humility that makes a champion _human_.

Jensen adjusts his camera, focuses on getting snapshots of the last moments of the match. The light of the Wednesday afternoon sun lends itself perfectly to his art – his photographs capture the sweltering, overwhelming heat and expose the exhaustion on the court.

The final moment lasts merely a second, meaningless and, at the same time, all too important.

Padalecki’s head drops to his chest, fingers gripping the racquet tight. He’s hit a shot that he knows is too long even before it lands.

He gazes at the ground while his opponent raises his racquet in victory, a pose Jensen has captured in reverse multiple times in the last four years.

The crowd cheers.

Shouts, whistles, applause. It’s so loud.

Time doesn’t stop. It should, it should bend itself backwards and refuse the loss of extraordinary. It should disown its own infallible quality to transform it into mediocre.

It should, but it doesn’t, and the match ends. The players meet at the net. Jared extends his hand, and there’s no trace of emotion on his face.

It’s the one thing Jensen admires about the guy. No matter how crushingly Padalecki defeats his opponents, the guy on the other side of the court gets a firm handshake and a respectful nod.

Jensen frowns, but concentrates on capturing the flurry of movement that follows, adding the last pieces to his canvas of moments.

It’s a high, being the chronicler of a moment etched in time.

Jensen doesn’t like stillness. He doesn’t understand it. There’s only so much he can find in it until it all becomes nothing, a portrait of emptiness that dwindles into despair if he stares at it too much.

Jensen likes people – motions, gesture, emotions, screams, tears, quiet and loud. Jensen’s in love with the rhythm that never gives up, with the seconds where he finds the world in someone’s eyes.

He loves the moments that always pass.

Just like this one.

The noise fades out, and all that’s left are members of the audience making their way out, and Jensen, with the camera in his hand.

He concentrates on the last pictures of his set – the image of a winner, hands stretched upwards, victorious smile on his face, facing the crowd.

A name that nobody ever heard about until now.

It’s matched with the picture of a retreating back, right hand saluting the crowd, but eyes downcast. Padalecki, stepping off the court, fading out.

Jensen closes his eyes for a moment to imagine cold water running over his body, to imagine somewhere where it doesn’t smell like burning asphalt.

Too many things are running through his head.

He has a choice to make, and Padalecki is at the heart of it.

Jensen sighs, powers off the camera, starts collecting his equipment.

He’s nearly finished when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Hi, Mom.”

He struggles to zip up the last of his camera bags with one hand.

“Yeah. Almost done, and I’m heading over to pick up Sky.”

Skylar is Jensen’s nine-year-old daughter. Sky is Jensen’s happiness, the reason for his existence. He smiles out of reflex.

“Is she okay?”

Rationally, Jensen knows she’s okay. She loves spending days at her grandmother’s. Grandma is the best cook in the world, or so is proclaimed to Jensen when he throws the fourth pancake in the trash in a futile attempt to save breakfast.

His mother informs him that she managed to stop Sky from eating _all_ the chocolate croissants, but regretfully informs him that Sky’s big, blue-green eyes were impossible to resist, and tonight he will have the great privilege to experience the dreaded sugar high firsthand.

Jensen can’t help but laugh.

His Sky is the most shy, quiet person in the world – until she is given sugar. Sugar makes her talk. She talks, and she plays with her pigtails, and she tells Jensen everything happening in the book she is reading, and Jensen begs for a chance to get a word in, and always ends up just staring at her, wondering how he’s gotten so lucky.

“Yeah, thank you. Looking forward to that.”

Jensen loves listening to his daughter’s stories. Just not when it’s bedtime.

“See you soon,” Jensen adds, hanging up.

Jensen rarely used to smile. At least, not…wholly. It was an exercise in moving facial muscles, something that nobody ever meant, but everyone did because it was socially required. Before Sky, Jensen lived through the lens and his subjects. He felt everything as secondhand experiences of the perfect moment that he captured others experiencing,  and the world got smaller, and too big, all at the same time, and Jensen was just watching, seeing – and it was enough. He didn’t know there was another way to do it.

Skylar changed him.

Jensen smiles, all the way to his car. He smiles until he sees the envelope on the passenger seat, Danneel’s neat handwriting on it.

_Think about it._

Yeah. Well, he is. Too much.

Jensen has a decision to make, and it’s far from being an easy one.  


~  
  


When Jensen’s mom opens the door – four hours after he said he’d arrive – she has a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, mom,” he kisses her on the cheek. “Where’s Sky?”

She continues smiling and brings a finger to her lips in a gesture of silence. She ushers Jensen towards the spare bedroom that’s become Sky’s, where she’s fast asleep under the lavender floral covers.

In the light from the hallway Jensen can see the strands of Sky’s light brown hair tickling her face, and he grins at the way her nose crinkles with each puff of breath. He steps forward, and tucks the loose strands behind her ear, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Jensen stares for a few moments.

He’d arrived late because he’d made a stop at his apartment to drop off all the photography equipment and send off the photos he’d taken to the appropriate recipients. It proved to be a lengthier detour than he initially imagined – he’d decided to take one more look at Danneel’s offer, thinking it would only take a few minutes, and had gotten lost in all the details that don’t matter.

So Jensen drinks in this moment.

He’d like to bottle it into a tiny keepsake that could fit into his pocket. Then he could always feel like this. Light, peaceful, happy.

Jensen follows his mom out of the room, closing the door carefully.

“She wanted to wait for you, but she was exhausted – she spent all day with your father in the garden,” she whispers, walking towards the kitchen.

Jensen laughs softly. “Helping him again?”

“She did pick out the weeds, I’ll have you know,” Donna says.

Jensen relaxes on one of the stools at the kitchen island, while his mom sets a teakettle on the stove.

“Alan likes it when she keeps him company.”

Jensen smiles.

It’s something that still surprises him. Jensen’s father is a retired army sergeant , and fits the stereotype to such lengths that it is almost funny. Precise, reserved, rarely displaying any emotion.

Except when it comes to Skylar.  Then all the rules go out the window. He coddles her, dances with her, once even attempted to bake something at his granddaughter’s insistence. It ended up being a total disaster, of ‘the whole kitchen covered in flour’ proportions, but Jensen couldn’t tell from Alan and Sky’s faces. Both beaming, both delighted with the results of their overenthusiastic folly.

Jensen had never known his father could be like that.

He wishes he could have had his dad like this, softer, indulgent –but it’s a gift that at least he sees it now. Jensen could never put into words how grateful he is to both his parents for how much they’ve helped him in giving Skylar a family.

“Tired?” Donna asks when Jensen lets the moment lapse into silence.

Jensen shrugs. “A little. Not really.”

“But?”

“Why does there always have to be a ‘but’?”

Most of the time, Jensen loves the fact his mother is a psychologist. The professional knowledge she has manifests itself in subtle ways, rarely noticed until after the fact.

During Jensen’s childhood she had to be mother _and_ father to two little kids while their dad was deployed, and she rose to the challenge with calmness and grace that Jensen hadn’t fully appreciated until he’d had to be both parents to Skylar.

However, sometimes she presses on issues Jensen doesn’t necessarily want to talk about. He’s helpless against her stare from behind her mug of tea, expectant but patient – patient in a way that speaks volumes about the fact that they both know Jensen’s going to end up telling her what’s bothering him.

Jensen sighs.

“Danneel sent me a job proposal.”

Danneel is his old college-friend-turned-business partner. She had been the practical, money-managing half of their unsuccessful photography company, attempted years ago with Jensen’s then-mediocre skills and Danneel’s relentless efforts to bring in clients. Sadly, Danni’s charm was infinite but not miraculous, and the photo business had tanked, but they’d kept at their separate passions and helped each other as much as possible.

Now Danneel is an editor-in-chief at _Aces_ , a weekly sports magazine that’s doing very well under her direction. She hooks Jensen up with jobs when she knows it’s something that he’d enjoy shooting.

Actually, she’s his primary source of work nowadays.

Trouble is, lately it’s less a question of what he enjoys, and more about the money it brings in. Skylar’s growing up, and Jensen is struggling to keep up with her needs.

Donna places her sugar spoon down, and with her hands clasped around her cup, she listens attentively.

“She has a very lucrative offer for me.”

Donna’s brows furrow. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah, usually,” Jensen concedes. “But this is different.”

“What do you mean?”

Jensen leans back, crosses his arms.

“It’s a one year job.”

Jensen waits for his mother to intervene, but when she stays characteristically silent, he continues. “It would mean a lot of money, but also a lot of travel back and forth all over the world in the course of a year,” he explains, trying to order his thoughts.

There are so many reasons not to accept it, and yet he can’t deny it’s tempting. But that stifled desire makes him feel guilty.

Sometimes, he wishes he was still the guy he was ten years ago, responsible for only his own needs.

Now, it doesn’t matter that it’s always been a dream of his to visit some of the locations mentioned in Danneel’s offer. What his daughter needs comes first.

His mother’s voice breaks Jensen out of his reverie.

“I think you need to start from the beginning, Jensen,” she instructs patiently.

“Right,” he says, but then delays answering by getting up to rummage in the fridge.

As he deposits a bag of frozen veggies and a slab of meat on the counter top, he continues. “I’d be providing the photos for a book Danneel’s writing.”

“I thought she wrote magazine articles about athletes and such.”

Jensen nods.

“She does. And this is in her field. It’s a book about Jared Padalecki.”

“The tennis player?”

Jensen glances at his mother before putting the vegetables and meat in a pan. “Yeah. Apparently, he’s come to the conclusion that now his career is ending, he needs to tell his story before the public forgets who he was.”

Jensen barely refrains from nuancing the last words with judgment. It’s such a tired cliché, it’s not even worth commenting.

“Well, now that we’ve established your enthusiasm is off the charts,” Donna comments, reading what he hadn’t said anyway, “tell me the good part of it.”

“I don’t know that there is one.”

“You’re thinking of Sky,” Donna says, and it’s a statement, not a question.

Jensen turns the oven on, then turns around, leans back against the counter.

“It’s a lot of time for me to be gone.”

“Your father was gone two, three years at a time, and you and your brother turned out fine.”

Jensen shakes his head. “It’s not the same.”

“Why?”

“Because we had you. Sky doesn’t have a mom.”

Jensen mutters the last sentence. He looks away, turns around and busies himself with adding some seasoning to the meat.

“She does have a mom. Just not a very good one,” Donna says in an inflectionless tone.

It’s a rare moment when Jensen’s mom allows herself to stray from the impartiality of her profession.

Jensen doesn’t like to talk about Alona. Alona had chosen to leave Sky, and for Jensen, there’s no understanding or forgiving that.

Donna interrupts his train of thought. “But you and Sky have us.”

“Yes, Mom, because the thing I want to do is put more on you than I already have.”

He’s angry. But he’s angry at himself, for having to admit that he needs so much help.

Jensen slams the oven door with more force than strictly necessary, but Donna doesn’t say anything.

There’s silence for a few moments.

“Are you done?”

Jensen spins around. “Done with what?”

“With whatever you’re cooking at eleven o’clock in the evening.”

Her lips are pursed into a thin line, and Jensen doesn’t know if it’s in annoyance or in amusement.

“I’m making myself dinner. Is there something wrong with that?”

Jensen knows he’s not being very rational at the moment. But he can’t help himself. Once he starts talking, it’s impossible to skip over the hard parts.

“There is nothing wrong with that,” Donna appeases, “I’m glad I raised a son that can feed himself, even if it’s not at conventional hours.”

Jensen huffs, rolls his eyes.

Donna stands up and walks to the fridge. She’s still wearing a dress, with a light sweater.

It’s the image Jensen’s grown up with – the elegance that was a constant presence in the house, regardless of the circumstances.

“Leftover potato salad and chicken,” she says, handing Jensen two containers. “This isn’t your apartment, Jensen, there is food – _cooked_ food – in the fridge all the time.”

She’s laughing at him, and Jensen would protest, refuse it on principle, but he hasn’t eaten all day, and that is not an option right now.

Jensen takes the Tupperware, mumbles a thank you.

“You’re welcome. Now go, sit.”

She motions towards the stool, and Jensen complies. He scarfs down half the food while his mother undoes his supper attempt.

“I put your roast back in the fridge. We’ll cook it tomorrow,” she assures Jensen.

He bows his head, stays silent.

“Do you want to finish our conversation tomorrow, too?”

Jensen’s head snaps up. He meets her gaze, sees the worry in her eyes.

“No – I – I don’t know,” he stammers.

Jensen wishes he knew how to say all he feels. He wishes that the ball of worry and frustration and fear in his chest wouldn’t grow every day. He wishes he knew how to explain what he wants in a way that wouldn’t feel like voicing it would crumble the precarious equilibrium he has.

“Can I ask you something, Jensen?” Donna asks quietly.

“Sure.”

She can, because Jensen wants to know the answers, too.

“Is this book with Danneel something you want to do?”

Jensen ponders that for a few moments. That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? And when his mother asks it point blank, he has to decide what he really feels.

“It is,” he admits slowly, feeling out the truth of the answer as he speaks. “With Danneel writing it, it will be a first-class project. Having my photos in it – it’s a fantastic opportunity to get my name out there …and a lot of money. The travel would be phenomenal. But like I said,” he looks his mom in the eyes. “It’s not about what I want anymore.”

Donna nods.

“Yeah, that’s great, honey,” she says, leaning back in the chair. “Except the last part is total bullshit.”

Jensen almost spits out his food. “Mom!”

“What? It’s a professional term, I assure you.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like I just dyed your dog pink.”

Jensen stifles a snort.

“It was the shampoo. I didn’t know – “ Donna protests, then cuts herself off, gets back on track before Jensen’s grin of remembrance threatens to spill over into outright laughter. “That was not my point.”

“I’m listening,” Jensen says obediently, smile still playing at the corner of his lips.

“I think you should do it,” she says, all the time looking in Jensen’s eyes.

Jensen doesn’t have the energy to argue anymore. He shrugs, finishes off his cold food, and doesn’t say anything.

“I’m very serious, Jensen,” she repeats firmly. “Sky can stay with us while you’re away.”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “No. I’m not putting that on you.”

Dona continues, completely ignoring his answer. “How long would you be gone for the year?”

“A week, maybe two, every month, sometimes a bit more, depending on how many tournaments Padalecki has,” he answers almost grudgingly.

“And does your job require you to be with him at all times on those weeks?”

Jensen furrows his brows. “No, just at the games and special events, and probably for some sessions with Danneel. Why?”

“I think you should consider taking Sky with you for some of it.”

Jensen’s protests are cut off before they even have a chance to start.

“Not right away, of course. But after you adjust to the schedule. Maybe over the summer vacation. You can make a great trip out of it,” Donna explains, and Jensen envies the easiness with which she tells him about the impossible. “And rest of the time, your father and I are more than happy to have her here.”

Jensen stares at his mother with wide eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to talk me into this.”

She smiles sadly. “Do you want to know why I’m doing it?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

She laughs, then turns serious again.

“Are you happy?”

Jensen gets up, deposits the empty dishes in the sink while he considers.

“I’m not unhappy,” he shrugs. “I have Sky.”

Donna nods in a way that Jensen always found patronizing.

“What?”

“I think that you underestimate how dangerous it is to put your happiness in the hands of others. Even if it’s your child.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. Nobody’s ever happy, you know?”

Happiness is an illusion, the light at the end of the tunnel that keeps getting longer, stretching further.

She shakes her head. “I think you don’t understand it yet.”

“Why does my happiness even matter, anyway? All that does is that Sky’s healthy and –“

He stops himself. God damn it. _Happy._ That fucking word again.

Donna smiles knowingly.

“To help others, first you have to help yourself?” Jensen tries, raising his gaze to meet his mother’s sheepishly.

“I raised a smart man,” Donna comments, satisfaction in her face evident. “You’re starting to get it.”

Jensen shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be too sure about it.”

“One can hope.” An affectionate smile lights up her features as she comes around the island to place a gentle kiss on his head. “Goodnight, honey.”

“’Night, Mom,” he says, with a feeling in his chest that’s both warm and empty.

What follows is a night of restless sleep – but Jensen’s used to the endless worry about what the next day will bring. As he is falling asleep he wrestles with his mother’s advice about taking care of himself in order to take care of Sky.  


~  
  


Next day is a beautiful, sunny Saturday, so Jensen and Sky head to the park in a tradition that he’s proud he’s managed to keep for them no matter what else is happening.

“We can take Poofy with us, right, daddy?” Sky asks with big, pleading eyes.

Poofy is the aptly named white ball of fur that Josh, Jensen’s older brother, had gotten Skylar for her seventh birthday.

Jensen still hasn’t decided whether he remains eternally grateful to Josh for the smile Poofy always manages to wrangle out of Sky, or if he needs to get sweet revenge by gifting his nephew a hamsteror something equally time consuming to take care of.

“Yes, we can take Poofy with us,” Jensen answers dutifully.

Sky beams, tugs at his hand impatiently.

She already has Poofy’s leash in her other hand. Sometimes, Jensen wonders if he even has a chance.

“Daddy?”

Jensen hums some kind of response, trying to juggle locking the door with the suddenly transferred leash in his hand.

“Thank you,” she enunciates slowly.

Jensen’s head spins around. He studies his daughter’s face for a few long moments, trying to identify what she is thanking him for.

Sky’s dimples peek out in a shy smile.

“Grandpa said to always say thank you when people give you something. So thank you for letting me bring Poofy with us.”

“That’s – that’s great, Sky,” he encourages, grin spreading over his features. “You’re welcome.”

They set out on their walk, Poofy yapping along with Sky’s incessant questions about anything and everything.

Jensen answers patiently.

He has questions of his own, but those can wait – right now, he wants to enjoy the moment, he wants to live in the present where Sky’s chasing Poofy, giggling and shrieking way too loudly.

Jensen watches, and right now, life doesn’t seem complicated at all.

Poofy’s drool-covered ball lands near Jensen’s feet. Sky runs towards him to get it.

“Daddy, throw the ball!”

Jensen does. When Poofy brings it back again, he scoops up both the ball and Sky.

He’s captivated by his daughter’s laugh, and Jensen remembers what it’s like to be a kid again.

Reality can wait in the shadows cast by the hot sun.


	2. Part Two

 

_2005_

_PARIS, FRANCE_

_FRENCH OPEN FINAL, T. WELLING vs J. PADALECKI 6-4 2-6 5-7 4-6_

_TRANSCRIPT OF AFTER-MATCH PRESS CONFERENCE_

**_Q:_ ** _Congratulations on winning your first title here. What is going through your head after that incredible match?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _Thanks. It’s sort of surreal. You always step on the court with the thought that you’re going to win, but when it actually happens…_

**_Q:_ ** _Did you ever dream that you were going to win the French Open?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _Yeah, growing up playing this game, you’d be insane not to dream about being here. If you’re asking me if I thought today’s result was possible? I did. Before the match? Completely. But if you want to know if this was my goal and my singular focus, and whether it kept me up at night? No, it wasn’t, and no, it didn’t._

**_Q:_ ** _You seem very confident. Is there a secret to that?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _(smiling) Sure._

_(silence)_

**_Q:_ ** _…and could you share it with us?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _I know what I can and can’t do with a racquet in my hand. There’s nothing more to it than that._

**_Q:_ ** _So you think you can beat any player currently in the circuit?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _That sounds like a challenge. (laughter) I go into every game thinking I can win. You have to have complete confidence in yourself in order to be a champion._

_**Q:** Your level and skills have steadily increased in the last few years. What would you say is the main factor for that?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _Work. A lot of work. Have you met Jeff [Morgan, coach to Padalecki]?_

_(laughter)_

**_Q:_ ** _Is there special preparation that goes on before a match with Welling? You’ve met in two finals before, and you lost both times. Did those moments go through your mind today?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _Of course. Those kind of moments – it’s stuff you want to forget, right? But if you want to win, you have to let your failures motivate you to do better._

**_Q:_ ** _What is the next challenge for Jared Padalecki? Where do you go from here?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _I have no idea. We’ll see._

_(silence)_

**_Q:_ ** _Welling and many other players have stated that they want to end their careers knowing they won a career Grand Slam. Is that your goal, too? Winning all the four biggest tournaments in the circuit?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _I’m setting the goal of playing the best I can next few weeks. We’ll see what happens._

**_Q:_ ** _It has been observed that you’re hesitant to answer questions that focus on your career goals. Many have speculated that you’re concealing an injury that could keep you from playing in the future._

**_Jared Padalecki_ ** _: I don’t have any injuries. I am passionate about tennis, otherwise I wouldn’t spend five hours on the court every day and the rest of the time studying it. I know the reality of it, which is something my father taught me. It’s hard to get to the top, but it’s even harder to stay there._

**_Q:_ ** _Do you leave Paris with any lasting memories about this final?_

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _Yeah, with this. (points to trophy) I remember my matches. Two weeks that truly felt incredible on the court. But Jeff says you have to forget your victories as well as your losses – so I’ll try to leave Paris only with the memory of the Eiffel Tower and the hope to return to it._   
  
  


_~_   
  
  


NOVEMBER 2015, NEW YORK

Standing in one of the _Aces_ conference rooms alone, foot tapping on the ground impatiently as he counts the number of people passing by the glass doors, Jensen regrets ever agreeing to attend this meeting.

Danneel had quickly ushered him into conference room number five with the hurried explanation that something had come up, it won’t take long to straighten out, they’ll be meeting in here, she’ll be right back.

That had been a half-hour ago.

Thirty minutes Jensen has been using to second-guess his decision for the hundredth time.

The sound of footsteps and voices makes Jensen stand up straighter and abandon the incessant rhythm of his toes hitting the ground.

Three figures come into view.

Danneel, a blur of motion, hands gesturing wildly, expression open and animated. Jensen wonders how long it will take Padalecki’s team to just how smart and pragmatic she really is.

Today she’s dressed in a fitted pearl white dress that outlines her graceful, curvy figure, accentuated by a narrow charcoal colored belt clasped with a tiny ribbon. There’s no wrinkle of fabric or strand of hair out of place – her dark auburn hair is swept up in an elaborate ponytail that shows off a pair of glittering turquoise earrings. Danneel has never shied away from admitting appearance has always brought up her obsessive tendencies.

It’s the juxtaposition of her elegant appearance with her genuine, uninhibited behavior that makes Danneel so endearing, even to people who barely know her. It’s not that the visual polish doesn’t follow through – it’s that her genuineness resides in the ease with which she handles every interaction.

The two men accompanying her are both under her thrall, smiling, listening attentively to whatever Danni is saying.

Padalecki, a part of Jensen hates to admit, is as striking off the court as he is on, in dark dress pants and a baby blue knit shirt that stretches over his chest in a way that makes Jensen want to capture it on film.

The tennis player holds the door open and the threesome continue their discussion as they approach the conference table.

Jensen is starting to feel a little awkward, until Padalecki acknowledges him by offering a handshake.

Jensen is surprised to find this casually smiling man instead of the stoic, self-controlled player Jensen’s photographed on the tennis court. Padalecki’s movements on the court are systematic – a machine with a racquet in his hand, pure power when moving, stiff and stationary between the points, focused and frowning when playing.

Padalecki’s last match at US Open, when he lost in the first round, had shown another, disagreeable side to the man, one Jensen figured was always there, but until that day stayed hidden – there had been more unpleasant expressions in the photos from that day than in the previous years combined.

The man in front of him has a casual smile and moves with unconscious gracefulness. His handshake is firm and when he mutters the standard ‘great to meet you’ while looking Jensen in the eyes, Jensen’s almost tempted to believe he’s sincere.

Jensen sits down, Danneel to his right, and Padalecki takes a seat across from them, along with the third man.

“Jensen, this is Misha Collins, Jared’s publicity agent,” Danneel says, grinning.

Jensen nods towards the guy, who stares for a moment too long at Danneel before turning to him.

“I understand you’re the photographer Ms. Harris hired for this project?”

Jensen has come here this morning still weighing his options. His habit has always been to postpone critical choices to the moment of truth, when he’s forced to choose one way or the other.

His mom had pointed that pattern out to him a long time ago. He tries not to do it, but even though he’d become exponentially more responsible since Skylar, old habits die hard.

“I am,” Jensen acknowledges after a brief pause. No omnipotent thunderclap acknowledges he’s reordered his and Sky’s life for the next year. Padalecki and Collins look pleased by his answer. Padalecki more than Collins – Jensen can’t help notice the the appraising once-over that was just subtle enough to almost be imagined.

“Good. Now that we’re done with introductions,” Collins starts, “let’s talk about what we’re actually doing here.” He glances at the papers he’s carried in and nods at Danneel. “Ms. Harris, what our collaboration proposes is an accurate account of the events observed in Jared’s life in the course of a year, along with interviews with Mr. Padalecki, and relevant friends and associates, in order to craft a final product of a biographical nature.”

Collins pauses, slides over a stack of files Jensen assumes is a stuffy contract full of notes and addendums and restrictions that Danni will have to pore over this evening.

Jensen listens carefully. He’s selective – or tries to be – about what he puts his name on, and genuinely curious about what all this entails, since he’s never been part of such a project before.

“What Misha is trying to say,” Padalecki intervenes, “is that I want everything on paper. Everything.”

Collins puts a hand on Padalecki’s arm. “Jared –“

Padalecki shakes him off, leans forward. “No, Mish. This is not something negotiable.”

He fixes Danneel with his gaze. “Ms. Harris, you come highly recommended. But you need to understand one thing – this is my legacy. This is my story. I want someone that can do right by it.”

Danni arches an eyebrow.

“So you want the bullshit version where you’re a hero.”

Sometimes Jensen is reminded of how much he loves Danneel.

Surprisingly, Padalecki shakes his head. “Just the contrary. I want you to tell everything as you see it. I want you to print each interview, or discussion with me, my friends, my family, as it is – no edits, no painting the pretty picture. If it’s nothing else, I want this to be honest,” he finishes, voice almost too low for the conviction in his words.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Well,” Danneel starts, clearly caught a little off guard, “if you knew me, you’d understand that was a given.” She smiles. “But I’m glad we’re starting off like this. It alleviates my concerns about this collaboration a great deal.”Padalecki nods, satisfied with the answer.

“Okay, with that out of the way,” Collins states a little louder than necessary before the ensuing quiet becomes uncomfortable, “we need to discuss the photos that will be included.”

He turns towards Jensen.

“I assume my work can’t pose a question of _honesty_ ,” Jensen says testily.

He’s still more inclined to believe Padalecki’s stand is for the sake of appearances – the reserve Padalecki’s always presented on the tennis court and in interviews doesn’t give the impression of a guy who’d allow complete transparency.

God knows there had been enough stories in the tabloids that he’d denied, despite the incriminating evidence.

Padalecki smiles agreeably at Jensen, but it’s Collins who responds.

“We reviewed your portfolio,” he starts, but doesn’t get very far, because Jensen interrupts.

“How did –“

“Ms. Harris sent it to us last week,” Collins patiently explains.

Jensen turns to glare at Danneel. She shrugs innocently, and pretends she didn’t assume that Jensen would take the job all along.

“Anyway,” Collins tries again, “we are quite content with the quality. The only requirement we have is that everything in the running to be published will be vetted by us first.”

Jensen scoffs. “Right. Wouldn’t want an imperfect photo, would we now?”

He wonders in the back of his mind why, now that he’s accepted the job, he’s trying to pick a fight and get removed from the contract. Danneel doesn’t seem to get it either, because she puts the heel of her stiletto on Jensen’s foot, and presses, hard. Jensen thinks his mother could probably explain it very succinctly.

He doesn’t understand why he’s so set against Padalecki, and by extension, anyone in his camp – but the guy rubs him the wrong way. Jensen presses his lips together, makes a conscious effort not to say anything else negative.

The only one who doesn’t seem bothered is – weirdly enough – Padalecki. He still has that pleasant smile plastered on his face, fingers of his right hand tapping on the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“I would tell you that, for me, it’s about telling the truth, but I’m not sure you’d believe me.”

Padalecki’s tone is devoid of any particular emotion – Jensen’s antagonism seems to leave him completely unaffected.

Jensen doesn’t have a suitable non-inflammatory answer, so he contents himself to stare at Padalecki, conveying the message that Jensen is not, in any way, shape or form, impressed by  the man.

Luckily, Danneel still holds some regard for social norms of communication.

“I can assure you Jensen is excited to be working with you,” she smiles at Padalecki, then turns to glower at Jensen, “but if he doesn’t get enough sleep he turns into a cranky old man.”

Padalecki and Collins give the appropriate laugh, and Danneel transitions smoothly to discussing the technical and logistical aspects of the deal.

Jensen spends the rest of the meeting alternately mumbling ‘yes’ and ‘right’ at the required times, and staring at Padalecki.

It’s strange, because Jensen had a pretty cemented idea of who the guy was – based on observing him on the tennis courts, the public persona his PR people finessed, and the stories on gossip sites, Jensen’d expected arrogance and ego. The appeal of Danni’s project lay in the opportunity to stretch what he could do, not in the subject.

Yet, somehow, in half an hour, with a smile that hasn’t wavered despite Jensen’s glower, and the habit of running a hand through his hair in a way that makes it look like he stepped out of a shampoo commercial, Padalecki has managed to get Jensen thinking he’s a frustrating riddle to be solved.

When everything is finally said and done, he shakes Padalecki’s hand like the professional he actually is, and the tennis player returns his gesture with a nod similar to the ones he gives to his opponents on the court at the end of the match.

It’s a start, Jensen decides as Padalecki and Collins leave

“You okay?” Danni asks, splayed in her own spinning chair, nudging Jensen’s foot with hers.

“Yeah.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“I just don’t like the guy,” Jensen shrugs.

When he looks back at Danneel, surprised by the silence that follows his statement, there’s a thoughtful look on her face.

“What?”

Danni shakes her head, starts getting up. “I don’t know. I can’t figure it out yet.”

Well. That’s very helpful.

Jensen catches her hand as he stands as well.

“Did I ever say thank you?”

Danneel looks at him, eyes full of mischief. Jensen thinks she’s going for a smart reply, but she surprises him again when she cups his jaw with her delicate hand, tiles his head down, and places a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you, you big idiot. No need to say thanks.”

Jensen laughs and watches the playful smile that lights up her features before she exits the conference room.

Jensen realizes he’s stupidly lucky.

He also realizes he’s got a whole lot of things to figure out, starting with how to tell his daughter that for the coming year she’s going to be spending a lot more time at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s. Though that part won’t be the problem – it’s that she’ll see him a lot less.

And he’s going to miss her.

But he has to trust that this will be a good thing in the long run, better than sticking with the comfortable, but limiting, rut he’s been in the last few years.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he leaves the building, soaking up the still-bearable morning sun.


	3. Part Three

_December 12 th, 2006—TMZ.com_

_TENNIS STAR PHOTOGRAPHED EXITING HOTEL WITH MODEL GIRLFRIEND_

_Up and coming tennis star Jared Padalecki, 24, was photographed Sunday morning exiting the Bela Vista Hotel in Miami, Florida, accompanied by Adriane Palicki, 23, model and aspiring actress whose last role was the titular character in the TV series ‘Bree’s world’, which was canceled after one season._

_Palicki seems to be Padalecki’s new love interest, going by the affectionate gestures the photographers caught them in– they are kissing in the first photo, and in the rest they are holding hands. From the way they’re dressed it’s a good bet they were heading to the beach._

_This is a quick rebound for Padalecki, who, according to tabloids, only six weeks ago split from his girlfriend of three years, Genevieve Cortese. The cause of their break-up is still unknown, and both parties have refused to comment on the issue._

_The romantic rollercoaster seems to have affected Padalecki’s game, too – after a spectacular year in 2005, when he won six trophies and participated in other two finals, Padalecki has had a lackluster year, losing frequently to  opponents ranked much lower than him._

_His only triumph came at Rio de Janeiro early in January, where he clinched the title after a hard-won battle with Michael Rosenberg._

_For more photos from Padalecki’s (not so) well-deserved vacation, click below._  
  


~  


January 15, 2016, SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA — INTERNATIONAL SYDNEY TOURNAMENT  


The first day is awkward.

It brings back the feeling of the first day of summer camp. It’s not one day, or just a week he has to spend with Padalecki’s entourage – it’s going to be the better part of a year, and Jensen has no intention of wasting the opportunity he’s been given.

Jensen realizes his parents – and Sky – are invested in this with him. In spite of the challenges it’s going to entail, it makes Jensen want to look on the bright side of things instead of expecting the worst.

Padalecki proposes dinner in the hotel restaurant so his team can get to know Danneel and Jensen better in advance of starting their collaboration, and Jensen doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

At eight o’clock, he comes down to the lobby, Danneel at his side.

They’re both dressed more formally – first impressions, Danni insists. Jensen thinks she just wants to dress up because she knows she pulls it off so stunningly.  She is wearing an emerald knee-length dress with sleeves of black lace, and her hair is effortlessly tousled in loose curls that brush over her shoulders. Jensen traded his favorite leather jacket for a comfortable salt-and-pepper tweed coat that is infinitely better than the penguin suit Danni’s made him wear as her escort in the past. Jensen thinks they’re a little overdressed. But, in the spirit of trying to be more malleable, he goes with it.

Surprisingly, they’re not. Padalecki’s already sitting at the reserved table, and he stands as soon as he sees Danneel and Jensen approaching. His navy suit is definitely custom-tailored, smoothly fitting across his broad shoulders and tapering past his narrow hips. The crisp white of his unbuttoned shirt compliments his healthy tan.

Jensen has the urge to rub his eyes when Padalecki smiles because it might have actually been genuine. He presses a kiss to Danneel’s cheek, shakes Jensen’s hand.

“Hi,” another smile. “Thanks for coming.”

Danneel hits him on the shoulder lightly, because that’s who she is, frat boy personality trapped in a beautiful dress.

“Of course,” she says. Then, smiling a bit too mischievously for Jensen’s taste, “It’s been a while since we’ve done one of these team building things, should be fun.”

Padalecki nods, sits down. “We’re not always going to be staying in a hotel. A lot of the time we rent an entire villa. But I thought it might be easier to start out like this, rather than bumping into virtual strangers in the kitchen in the morning while getting our coffee fixes and trying to avoid other human beings until we’ve each had one.”

“True,” Danni laughs. “Well, I think we’ve skipped the awkward small talk phase, and we didn’t even come close to talking about the weather. Hey, progress.”

Padalecki grins, and the conversation goes from there while they wait for the others. It’s a little bit stunted, a bit forced, in a way that getting to know someone always is. But both Danneel and Padalecki seem to have an inherent quality Jensen lacks, the ability to turn up the charm whenever it’s necessary, the kind of people that say light-hearted things to keep the exchange going, smiling whenever they hit an awkward pause.There honestly aren’t many of those, though. Jensen’s always known Danni’s had it – he’s surprised to see it in Padalecki.

Jensen enjoys their back and forth, content to listen and watch, although Danni makes a point of soliciting his opinions and referencing their joint history. He appreciates that she makes it easy on him to be sociable. Heaven knows, if it had been just Padalecki and him, it’s a question whether more than two words would have been exchanged.

When the other guests arrive, it’s fascinating to watch how everyone revolves around the tennis great. Misha, who had appeared loud and somewhat condescending at their initial meeting in New York, seems to be the calmest presence at the table. Jeff Morgan is Padalecki’s coach, and while he makes a big entrance, being the last to arrive, once he takes the empty seat beside his player he remains quiet, but smiling. Jensen notes Morgan is the one who places the order for drinks and appetizers .

Chad Murray, Padalecki’s physical therapist, is the only one that doesn’t seem to rein himself in to fit with the tone of the group.  He’s the only one dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice the discrepancy, much less be bothered by it, and by his interjected comments, he doesn’t have any regard for Padalecki’s status.

“Oh, come on, Jay, that is fucking bullshit,” he declares loudly when everyone is talking about the NBA season and Padalecki has said he’d liked playing basketball in his early high school years, “you’re shit at any other sport than tennis.”

Padalecki doesn’t seem bothered by Chad talking that way to him, just laughs and nods.

“That true?” Jensen asks, a little surprised by that piece of information.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “apparently, I lack the hand-eye coordination.”

The whole table laughs, and even Jensen can’t hold back a smile at that.

“My baseball career lasted maybe ten minutes… I’ve been told I’m bad at 90% of games played with balls.”

Chad coughs in a way that Jensen supposes is meant to be subtle.

Well, Jensen has news for him – the cat’s been out of the bag for a long time. No one from Padalecki’s team has ever publicly admitted it, though, and the girlfriend parade in his early career?

False. Padalecki had different tastes, of the whole other gender kind.

The only statement Padalecki’s ever made when asked was, _‘I know who I am. I’m not hiding.’_

Which was cryptic and disingenuous, and the moment Jensen decided that he wasn’t a fan of Padalecki’s. Playing games with the media, that Jensen could understand. But as a role model that kids looked up to? The guy didn’t seem to understand that he was playing right into society’s prejudices.

“Well,” Collins breaks the awkward silence, “I’m going to have the kale salad and a steak.” The matter-of-factness with which he redirects the table reminds Jensen of his father’s no-nonsense personality.

“Misha won’t be travelling with us very often,” Padalecki explains to Danni and Jensen while the rest of the group makes their choices from the menu, “but we both decided that it was important for him to be here to kick things off.”

“How nice,” Jensen mutters without really thinking, halfway through his second whiskey.  On an empty stomach.

It doesn’t take much anymore to get him well on the way to soused, he realizes too late.

Padalecki arches an eyebrow. He seems amused.

“Aw, first night and you’ve already gotten Jensen inebriated,” Danneel teases.

Padalecki fixes Jensen with his gaze.

“Not completely.”

Jensen is not prepared for the intensity he finds in Padalecki’s hazel eyes. He looks away, straightens up in his chair almost unconsciously.

Danneel answers for him. “Well, there’s still time.”

It’s the right thing to say for the discussion to go back to talking about menu choices.  Jensen is not sure that he didn’t just imagine the heat in Padalecki’s eyes.

It’s a more pleasant evening than Jensen expected, with good food and decent conversation, and he switches to coffee so he’s mostly sober enough to enjoy the anecdotes Padalecki’s team are delighting in sharing with the newbies.

The meal is almost over when Jensen realizes no one has brought up the upcoming competition. He wonders if it’s a sensitive issue since Padalecki’s been dropped down in the standings again. Surely that has to be bothering the man – but there’s no indication that Padalecki has anything on his mind other than making sure everyone is enjoying the evening.  At eleven o’clock Padalecki makes an excuse that he has to get up for an early training session in the morning, and everyone else prepares to leave as well. Padalecki ends the night in the same manner he acted all evening – graceful and smiling.

Truth is, now Jensen is honestly confused about the guy.  Jensen doesn’t understand – is it all a façade for the sake of his last hurrah? To get a book to burnish his image as a good guy? Is it a game his whole team is in on?

Or – there’s the unpalatable option that Jensen is wrong about Padalecki, has taken what he’s seen and read and given it a negative interpretation because of his inherent cynicism.

It unsettles Jensen. One thing he prides himself on is having learned the hard way to make accurate judgments of character. His experience with Alona had taught him that people don’t change who they really are just because someone else sees them with rose-colored glasses. Jensen had disregarded all the signs that Alona wasn’t suited to be a mother, wanting to trust that deep down, she would do what’s right, that when it came down to it, she wouldn’t leave her child.

But she did.

And something changed in him when she left. He had to find the strength to hold people accountable for their own actions. He understood that it wasn’t a question of fault, but a question of letting go of people and things that weren’t good for him or Skylar, not hanging on for the sake of whatever is ‘right’ or ‘normal’.

Back in his room, Jensen throws his jacket over the back of a chair.

His suite is so spacious – it’s just hard not to feel the emptiness in the dim light of a bedside lamp. Jensen isn’t used to being alone anymore, looking at a bed too big for one person. He suddenly remembers being tangled up with Jason on a twin-size bed in his dorm room, the queen-size bed he’d shared with Alona in their apartment. There hasn’t been anyone else, not since Skylar was born.

It’s quiet here, too much so. There are only Jensen’s thoughts, and it’s been a long while since he’s dared to meet them head on. Jensen has parts of himself that he buried when he took on the role of a father – and mother – to his daughter, smothering them until they succumbed to a fading feeling of nostalgia for easier times.

Jensen changes into a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, his usual version of pajamas, and lets himself fall on the huge bed. He lets the alcohol-enhanced exhaustion seep in because there’s no one there to need energy for.

He falls asleep thinking of his daughter, thoughts that should be happy and calming. But they’re diffused in a cloud of smoke, filtered through a broken lens, because all Jensen can think about is what can go wrong.

He’s not with her. Jensen’s been away from her before, and most of the time, he manages to convince himself that’s a good thing. But it’s much like a castle made of sand, solid until a wave washes it away.

He’s afraid he might enjoy the solitude too much.  


~  
  


The water is still, an endless canvas of teal and cerulean that stretches below him. Jensen watches, mesmerized.  The buildings he found so imposing on the ground he can now fit in his palm.

He’s on top of the world, or so it seems from the Sydney Harbor Bridge.

The sky above him is gray, heavy, oppressive. And yet Jensen feels free.

He feels weightless. He feels like he could lose himself in this moment, stare at the ocean forever, because the world inside him is quiet, is just _this_ , now, the present.

The wind whips by, but it’s refreshing, the coldness that penetrates through the gear he’s wearing makes him feel alive, makes him feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

The thoughts going through his head fight for the right of way, but Jensen refuses to be referee – he lets them float, run, and fade without giving them attention. He loves the stillness that builds inside his mind.

Pictures are being taken with the group and the guide.

Jensen doesn’t have his own camera with him. He wants to enjoy this experience unhindered by the drive to capture the perfect photograph. He will buy a postcard, send it to Sky and then when he gets home they will put it in their collection – souvenirs, photos, postcards – shoe boxes sorted by years, a tradition from Jensen’s childhood that he’s passed along to his daughter. 

Back on the ground, staring at the photo that he’s been given as part of the tour experience, Jensen is surprised to find himself smiling from ear to ear. It’s strange; the mirror in his hotel room only shows the lines of exhaustion, the frowns and the worry. The mirror in his apartment always shows him aged by ten or fifteen years.

The foamy sea of clouds breaks a bit, allowing strips of sapphire blue to peek through.

Jensen refuses to wonder why, how, or if the feeling of contentment will last. He walks to the hotel, deliberately focusing on the wonderful, tangible world outside of his thoughts.  


 

~  


 

“Yeah, just going up to shower and change.”

As Jensen walks down the hotel corridor to his room, his attention is drawn to the voice moving nearer.

“Meet back in thirty?”

It’s Padalecki on his phone, and whatever the person at the other end of the line responds, it must be agreeable, because he nods, says a quick goodbye, and hangs up.

He struggles to shove the cellphone into the gym bag he’s carrying on his shoulder – Jensen notices he’s dressed in his usual white board shorts and navy blue polo shirt, the trademark Padalecki court outfit.

Jensen has about three seconds to sift through every emotion and thought that hits him like a freight train – there’s a tightness in his chest, and his mouth feels dry. His mind becomes a place for a brief war: does he say hello? Does he nod? Does he stop to talk?

Jensen ineffectively uses one of those three seconds to curse himself for the reaction, and trying to get back on the right – _rational –_ track.

“Hey, Ackles,” Padalecki greets, saving Jensen from formulating any kind of introduction.

“Hey,” Jensen replies, voice surprisingly even. Then, for some unknown reason, continues. “Back from practice?”

Jensen could kick himself.

What the hell is he doing?

He doesn’t want to talk to Padalecki. He isn’t interested. But, somehow, that didn’t compute – his brain registered ‘be polite’ as ‘extend conversation unnecessarily,’ it seems.

Oblivious to Jensen’s inner turmoil, Padalecki smiles, but without the usual brightness. It’s in its absence that Jensen notices the difference.

“Yep. Bit harder to get into the rhythm at the beginning of a year.”

What follows is an awkward pause, because whatever got into Jensen to start a conversation just as quickly vacated the premises. Even Padalecki, who had no trouble talking last night, seems to be searching for a conversational topic.

“How about you?” Padalecki asks, finally.

“Tour of the Sydney Harbor Bridge.”

Padalecki’s eyes widen. He grins.

Jensen’s a little dumbfounded at the display of warmth. Jensen doesn’t know what to do with the good-natured openness.

“Nice, did that my first time here.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

Padalecki shrugs. “It was alright.” At Jensen’s raised eyebrow, he explains, “Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for a guy with fear of heights to climb a four hundred feet bridge.”

Padalecki’s confession surprises him into a laugh.

“You don’t like heights?”

“Well, you know, facing your fears and all that sounds very good on the ground,” Padalecki admits. “And it was a spectacular view…I definitely appreciated the postcard.”

The wry twist to Padalecki’s grin has Jensen unconsciously smiling back when Padalecki’s phone rings out.

He doesn’t seem to notice – he’s staring at Jensen, eyes sparkling, waiting for Jensen to continue. It’s only when Jensen helpfully points to his bag that Padalecki realizes what’s happening.

“Oh. Excuse me.” He fishes his phone out, mouths, “It’s Chad,” and throws a last winning look at Jensen as he resumes walking down the hall.

Jensen watches him leave, train of thoughts going a mile a minute.

Jensen doesn’t even know how to explain it to himself. He doesn’t want to like Jared. Admittedly, Jensen doesn’t know much about the man…He’s simply been a photo subject since he started getting noticed on the courts. As a tennis player, Padalecki was atypical from the start. Seemingly too tall for his movements to be agile, Padalecki didn’t inspire much confidence. Commentators considered his stance heavy, weighted down, too muscular for the sport. Jensen was surprised along with everyone else by the finesse and elegance in Padalecki’s shots, the unexpected little moments where it wasn’t sheer force that he used to dominate, but intelligent play and a swift twist of his wrist.

What Jensen had seen of Padelecki in the media had seemed rigid, curt, and borderline arrogant in his interactions with the press. The guy seemed well aware that he was tennis’ current golden boy. Now, as little as Jensen had seen him since signing on for the project, he discovers he may have been wrong. There areso many things that bother him.

It’s much easier to stick with that unpleasant image formed about Padalecki before meeting the man. Prior to today Jensen felt like he had a suit of armor, impermeable to Padalecki’s charms, as fine-tuned as they may be.

But this impromptu meeting caught Jensen unprepared, relaxed, with his guard down.

And, no matter how long he stands there watching the empty hall, fiddling with his room card, for the life of him, Jensen can’t figure out what his reaction is supposed to be.

So, sticking to old habits, he decides to ignore it completely.

He goes to get a drink instead. Jensen’s good at dealing with his uncomfortable feelings like that. Drinking’s not a habit, it’s not something that he has done in a long time – but right now, it’s the thing that sounds best to pass the evening.

It’s certainly better than running into Jared or his team again.  


~  
  


“Ackles?”

Jensen hums out a response, still concentrating on scraping the paper from his beer bottle. It’s only when he actually realizes someone is calling for his attention that he leaves dreamland and lands back on earth with a spectacular crash.

How much time had passed? It was only – is this his first bottle? His second?

So much for having a nice, relaxing, uninterrupted time.

He’d only meant to get a shot of whiskey. Just to help him sleep. But a beer chaser had seemed like a good idea.

“Huh? Yeah, Murray, hey,” he tries to ignore the way his words slur the slightest bit.

Murray arches an eyebrow. “You good?”

He seems a bit concerned, which is weird, because Murray’s known him for like, a week and a half.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

But for some reason, Murray doesn’t seem to believe him, so he takes a seat near him at the hotel bar. Great. Now he has to make conversation. That’s what he tried to avoid from the start.

He’d just like to have a quiet night to himself, with a drink and without the pressure of any kind of urgent thought.

“Hate to break it to you, Ackles, you’re nothing special in the messed-up department.”

Jensen raises his gaze from the bottle to meet Murray’s.

Murray taps the counter, nods to the bartender, who places a glass of scotch in front of him almost immediately.

“What? It’s news, that you’re not the first male of the species to worry about stuff and drown your sorrows in whiskey and – “ Chad stops, squints at Jensen’s bottle, “ what is that, _light_ beer?”

He seems offended. But that’s how Chad looks most of the time, so.

“Maybe not. But I don’t recall asking your opinion on the matter.”  Jensen manages to drag out some words from the pleasant buzz that has turned his mind to Jell-O.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Well. Okay. So Murray is not as concerned with social niceties as the rest of Jared’s team is.

“What’s the problem?” Chad asks, his concern a contradiction that Jensen can’t really process right now.

Jensen shrugs. “Nothing.”

 _Nothing_ is the right answer. The true one. He’s just trying to get his brain to believe that.

“You want to get it out?”

“Nope,” Jensen says, shaking his head, then immediately regretting the movement when the room spins a little with him. “Not to you.” Which is a little unwarranted, because Jensen doesn’t want to talk to anyone, not just Chad. Right now, he simply wants to stop thinking about how he’s fucked up his life…why he’s half the globe away from his daughter on a job that he shouldn’t have taken with people that he doesn’t want to be with.

“Pity,” Chad shrugs, “you’re missing out. I got straight A’s in all my college psych courses.”

Jensen laughs, entirely too loudly, he doesn’t really care.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I bet you’re a real fuckin’ guru –“

“Just sayin’, free advice,” Murray continues, ignoring the fact that Jensen’s train of thought is leaving to search for that last part of the sentence in the depths of his alcohol-glazed mind. “And this one’s on me – don’t drink.”

Jensen’s gaze snaps up. “What?”

“Don’t drink,” Chad patiently repeats. “Not when you’re alone. Not when you don’t want to think about it.”

“ _It?_ ”

Okay, his listening skills may not be up to par. But does Chad make sense to anyone?

“Whatever’s bothering you. Don’t try to drink it gone.”

What the fuck. Jensen resents the implication.

“It’s the first drink I had since –“

“Since the one you had at dinner,” Chad interrupts him and it pisses Jensen off just how calm he is. The nerve of the guy – he’s drinking himself, the scotch glass is half empty already –

“It ain’t about that, Ackles. It’s about not making a habit.”

Fuck. Okay, so Jensen’s brain to mouth filter is off. “What the hell would you know about that?”

Murray frowns, but otherwise remains unperturbed. Jensen starts to think there was some kind of required class on mastering the art of Zen before joining Jared’s team.

“A lot, actually,” Chad replies. “And enough to tell you that you’re a perfect candidate for overdoing it.”

“Fuck you,” Jensen ever-so-eloquently replies.

He’s angry at Murray’s assumption, but somewhere between trying to stand up and pathetically falling back down on his chair, Jensen realizes he doesn’t have enough coordination for any kind of fight.

Chad helpfully puts a hand on Jensen’s shoulder to steady him.

“Look, you might wake up tomorrow thinking that I’m an asshole –“

“Already do,” Jensen mutters under his breath.

“ – or you might wake up tomorrow and actually remember what I said,” Chad says, completely ignoring him. “Either way, I’m going to sleep better tonight knowing I told you.”

“So all this was about you.”

Chad shrugs, puts away the last of the scotch. “Isn’t everything always about us?”

Jensen nods.

Uh-huh. _Riight._ Two cent philosophy on demand. Chad can’t possibly be speaking English, because the words he just said just scramble in Jensen’s head, dance away before Jensen can grasp whatever the fuck they mean.

Jensen settles for stating the obvious instead.

“You’re an asshole, Murray.”

Murray shrugs. “So?”

Jensen answers that question honestly, which may prove not to be the best idea in the long run. But hey, one problem at a time.

“So. I don’t like you.”

Murray turns towards Jensen, smiles infuriatingly. “Still not seeing the problem.”

“Yeah, right,” Jensen scoffs.

“What, it’s hard to believe I don’t need everyone in the world to like me?”

“Well –“ Jensen starts.

“Tell me, Ackles, do you get a medal for making it this hard on yourself?”

Jensen furrows his brows. “The hell you talking about?”

Chad’s right hand moves into an all-encompassing gesture. “This. Not talking to anyone except when you have to. Acting like you’ve got the world’s worst job.”

As drunk as Jensen might be, he isn’t blind to what Chad’s doing.

“So that’s what this is all about.”

It’s Murray’s turn to frown. “What?”

“Let me guess, this is going to turn into a speech about how Padalecki’s actually a decent guy, and it’s me that’s the problem.”

Murray doesn’t give an inch, just studies Jensen for a few long moments.

“Must be a miserable place you live in, Ackles,” he says finally, shaking his head. “Jared is a decent guy. And the way you’re going about this? Not doing yourself any favors,” he adds while signalling the bartender again. “But speeches aren’t my thing.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Chad laughs, for some reason. Jensen frowns, tries to figure it out.

But his very limited attention span is put to test when a tall glass is suddenly placed in front of him on the counter. Huh. He doesn’t remember ordering anything.

“Water. Drink,” Murray instructs.

“What?” Jensen questions, struggling to follow, really solidifying tonight’s theme.

Chad pushes the glass closer to Jensen, tilts his head in its direction. “First, water. You’re going to thank me tomorrow.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, but grabs the glass, takes a few mouthfuls.

“Good. Now, listen to me,” Murray’s voice has an edge that Jensen hadn’t heard until now. “All I’m trying to say here is – don’t live in your head, man. That’s not a good place to be all the time.”

Jensen nods. Sure. Yes. Good advice.

Except, Murray’s unsolicited opinion on the zero things he knows about Jensen’s life means exactly nothing.

“You know who else liked to do that? Burrow all the way down inside?”

Jensen purses his lips. “No, but I assume you’re going to tell me.”

Chad smiles faintly. “Ask Jared sometimes, what he’d do differently. How he got here from where he started. You might be surprised.”

“You telling me Padalecki is self-absorbed doesn’t surprise me.”

“But telling you that the guy learned the hard way that he had to change something might.”

Jensen sizes Chad up. He’s not entirely sure what they’re talking about. What could be so bad in the life of the tennis superstar?

“You know what?” Chad says, after a few long moments where Jensen lets the tirade against Padalecki build in his mind. “My bad. Thought you and I could talk, man to man.” Murray actually seems disappointed. Well, who would have thought?

“Beats me why,” Chad says, watching Jensen curiously, “but I really thought you’d get it.”

Jensen arches an eyebrow. “Get what?”

But Chad just shakes his head, gets up. “Nothing. Come on,” he adds, “I’m your assigned babysitter tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“Danneel is interviewing Jeff tonight, so she sent me to check on you,” Murray explains.

God damn it. He is an adult. An adult who can take care of himself.

However, Jensen’s indignation proves to be invalid when he starts swaying on his feet the moment he gets up.

“Fuck,” he mumbles uselessly.

“Come on,” Murray says patiently, looping an arm around Jensen’s shoulders.

Jensen would protest, except he’s not entirely sure he doesn’t need the help. He turns back, remembering the bartender.

“It’s settled,” Chad immediately replies, pulling at Jensen, herding him towards the elevator.

Good. One less thing to deal with.

That’s what tonight was about. Forgetting. Simply numbing everything, every thought, every nagging worry.

Peering at Murray through his eyelashes in the elevator, leaning back on the solid, cold metal bar that’s pressing into his back – well, the guy might have a point.

A little moment from his childhood comes into his mind.

 _“Jensen,”_ his father had said, _“there are things you won’t always understand. But you have to remember: they’ll either make sense later, or they’re simply not meant for you to get them.”_

It was during a night when a seven-year-old Jensen had found his father in the kitchen, still dressed in army greens, staring sightlessly at the open fridge. He’d hugged Jensen, with more force than he ever did, or so Jensen remembers.

His dad had taken him onto his lap, talked to him for a long time.

Jensen doesn’t remember what his father said; all he can see now are the scars, the dark patches around his dad’s eyes, the way the skin on his ring finger puckered around his wedding band.

Jensen’s father was right.  

But how to get past this, when nothing seems to make enough sense? When is it going to get better?

Jensen shakes his head, lets the exhaustion wash the memories away. It’s moments like these, when Jensen feels like he could let himself fall, that he’s truly afraid.

Murray puts a hand on his bicep, grips tight.

“What room?”

Jensen scrambles for his key card. Chad gets him through the door, then Jensen shakes him off. “ ‘M fine now. You can go.”

Chad shakes his head, but leaves, and Jensen falls across the bed before passing out.  


~  
  


Next day, Padalecki loses in the tournament’s semifinals.

Jensen’s headache makes it a challenge to deal with the bright sun, the noise, and the movement. It requires much more concentration than usual to keep snapping pictures and not just get caught up in the quick exchange of shots.

Not that he’s never worked with a hangover. But it’s been a long time…He’d wonder what the hell happened last night, and why did he drink that second beer last night, but thinking hurts.

Back in the hotel, he gets the message that the entire team will be leaving in the morning. He doesn’t have the focus to sort through his photographs from the day, so he wanders down to Danneel’s room, and when she lets him in, he promptly faceplants onto her bed.

“Your head?” Danneel ever-so-helpfully asks as she pulls dresses from the closet and folds them in her suitcase.

“Uh.” He raises his head to glare at Danneel.

”You thought I needed a babysitter.”

Danneel rolls her eyes. “He wasn’t – you know what? Sue me if I thought you’d like some company.”

“Yeah, Murray told me I’m gonna end up an alcoholic and that I need to talk to Jared. _Great_ company he was.”

Danni ignores him, focuses on emptyingthe closet and struggling with the zipper on her bag. “It’s harder when you pack your entire wardrobe,” Jensen razzes.

What he gets in response is a hotel hand towel in his face.

“You know, Jen, I think he just cares about this project,” Danni says after a while, when she’s sure Jensen won’t retaliate. Her tone is surprisingly serious.

“Are we still talking about Murray?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “It’s something I noticed when I first interviewed him. Actually, all of them.”

Jensen waits for Danneel to find the right words to explain. She’s looking straight at him, searching.

“They’re a close group, you know? They care about each other. They care about the game, about Jared, about this life. It’s not –“

“Just a job?” Jensen completes.

“Exactly.” Danneel looks troubled. “And I’m concerned about how they – how Jared – is going to handle today’s loss.”

“He made it to the semifinals, which is better than what anyone predicted.”

“But he’s won – he’s owned – this tournament in the past. We’re documenting a star on the way down…that’s hard.”

“Bigger they are, harder they fall,” Jensen shrugs.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Danneel sounds both mystified and irritated.

“Don’t have to like him to do my job.”

“But why? I really don’t get it – what has he done to you? And why did you take this job if you felt that way about him?”

Jensen choses to address the last question because at least he has an answer for that one.

“Money. Chance to up my reputation. Job security for a solid year. Figured I’d only have to interact with him through the viewfinder, could put up with him like that.”

“I really think there’s something here,” Danni whispers, staring across the room. “Something good. I wish you could see that.”

Jensen shrugs.

“I have a year to find out,” he says, closing his eyes.

He knows he’s disappointed his best friend. But he’ll worry about it tomorrow.

 

 


	4. Part 3.5

_2007_

**From:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>  
**Subject:** tonight  
**Date:** February 14, 2007 3:30:58 PM PDT  
**To:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>

_we still on for 2nite?_

_need u._

_t.w._

 

 **From:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: tonight  
**Date:** February 14, 2007 5:53:20 PM PDT  
**To:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>

_No, heading for Rio. Plane leaves at 10 pm._

_Acapulco next week?_

_Jay_

 

 **From:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>  
**Subject:** RE: tonight  
**Date:** February 14, 2007 5:55:34 PM PDT  
**To:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>

_it’s valentines, jay. You gonna leave me hanging?_ __

_t.w._

 

 **From:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: tonight  
**Date:** February 14, 2007 6:33:47 PM PDT  
**To:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>

_Yep. I am._

_Won’t miss hours of sleep, even if it’s for that sweet ass of yours._

_With never-ending love,_

_Jay_

 

 **From:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>  
**Subject:** RE: tonight  
**Date:** February 14, 2007 7:45:34 PM PDT  
**To:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>

_asshole_

 

 **From:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>  
**Subject:** RE: tonight  
**Date:** February 14, 2007 7:46:02 PM PDT  
**To:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>

_yeah, acapulco next week. u’re making it up 2 me._

_t.w._

 

 **From:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: tonight  
**Date:** February 15, 2007 8:33:22 AM PDT  
**To:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>

_Already thinking about it._

_I really do love your ass,_

_Jay_

 

 **From:** TW <tplayer_one@tennetwork.com>  
**Subject:** RE: tonight  
**Date:** February 15, 2007 9:25:12 AM PDT  
**To:** JP <[trpad19@tennnetwork.com](mailto:trpad19@tennnetwork.com)>

_yours too._

_t.w._

 

_~_  
  


2016

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
**Subject:** RE: AO Photos  
**Date:** February 26, 2016 6:30:22 AM PDT  
**To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

 **Cc:** Misha Collins <[mishacollinsPR@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:mishacollinsPR@inspireTENorg.com)>, Danneel Harris <danni_harris@acesmagazine.com>

Hey Jensen,

Misha and I reviewed the shots you sent us.

We’d like to set a meeting to discuss them. How does the 28th sound for you?

Best regards,

Jared Padalecki

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: AO Photos  
**Date:** February 26, 2016 04:43:12 PM PDT  
**To:** Jared Padalecki [jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)

 **Cc:** Misha Collins <[mishacollinsPR@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:mishacollinsPR@inspireTENorg.com)>, Danneel Harris <danni_harris@acesmagazine.com>

The 28th is good for me. 4 PM?

Jensen A.

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
**Subject:** RE: AO Photos  
**Date:** February 26, 2016 8:30:22 PM PDT  
**To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

 **Cc:** Misha Collins <[mishacollinsPR@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:mishacollinsPR@inspireTENorg.com)>, Danneel Harris <danni_harris@acesmagazine.com>

Perfect.

Best regards,

Jared Padalecki

 

~

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
**Subject:** Meeting details  
**Date:** February 27, 2016 06:02:20 AM PDT  
**To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

Hi,

Attaching the document with the meeting details.

Best regards,

Jared Padalecki

P.S. No worries. We just want to talk about our arrangement going forward. How have you been? 

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: AO Photos  
**Date:** February 27, 2016 08:33:00 AM PDT  
**To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

Hello,

Thank you.

And  I wasn’t worried. But that’s great to hear. I’ve been good. Great to spend time with my daughter.

Jensen A.

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
**Subject:** Meeting details  
**Date:** February 27, 2016 09:02:20 AM PDT  
**To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

Confident.

I suppose you have reasons.

Glad you’re having a good time.

Best regards,

Jared Padalecki

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: AO Photos  
**Date:** February 27, 2016 02:22:30 PM PDT  
**To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

_I know what I can and can’t do._

Jensen A.

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
**Subject:** Meeting details  
**Date:** February 27, 2016 11:10:17 PM PDT  
**To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

You really don’t like me, do you? 

Best regards,

Jared Padalecki

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: AO Photos  
**Date:** February 28, 2016 08:39:42 AM PDT  
**To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

I don’t know you enough.

Look, I don’t usually do this. Is it going to have some bearing on our contract?

Jensen A.

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
**Subject:** Meeting details  
**Date:** February 28, 2016 10:01:22 PM PDT  
**To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

No, Jensen. If anything, I’ve appreciated your honesty from the beginning.

I know this situation is a bit unusual. But I have been used to having a tight team around me. I’ve been trying to make you and Danneel feel part of it, too – because you are, at least this year.

However, I am conscious of the image I’ve built over the years, and I take responsibility for it. I’m ready to face the consequences, as unfortunate as they may be.

Not friends, but…professionals? That should work, I think. 

Best regards,

Jared Padalecki

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
**Subject:** RE: AO Photos  
**Date:** February 28, 2016 10:21:42 AM PDT  
**To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

Yes. Professionals.

Jensen A.

 

 


	5. Part Four

 

_SEPTEMBER 17 th, 2008 _

_THREE DAYS AFTER U.S. OPEN FINAL, J. PADALECKI – T. WELLING 6-4 1-6 3-6 7-6 2-6_   
  


_“This is Morgan.”_

_“Yeah. I mean, hi. It’s Chad. Murray. Jar – Padalecki’s new physical therapist. Started two months ago? You said to call if there were problems.”_

_“He’s injured.” Statement, not question._

_“What? No. Well, sort of.”_

_“Spit it out, kid.”_

_“He’s – um. He’s asleep most of the day. He’s barely eating. He doesn’t talk.”_

_“And?”_

_“And?! You do know what that means, don’t you?”_

_A sigh. “Yeah.” Then, louder. “Yeah, I know.”_

_“So? What the fuck do I do now?”_

_“First, calm down.”_

_“No. Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. You haven’t seen him. He’s a fucking vegetable, man.”_

_“And you wouldn’t be, under the circumstances?”_

_“Look, Morgan, all due respect: he lost a match. A fucking match. It might have been a final, but it’s not the end of the world.”_

_Morgan laughs without humor._

_“It is for him. It’s the one thing he dreamt of. He was too close to winning for it not to hurt this way. Look, take care of him till I manage to settle everything here.”_

_“Yeah. Don’t worry. He hasn’t said anything. He knows you’re at your brother’s funeral.”_

_“Of course he didn’t say anything. Jared’s undoubtedly on a guilt trip for not coming with me.”_

_“Yeah, well –“_

_“Stay with him. I don’t care what you do. If he doesn’t make himself food, make it for him. If he doesn’t talk to you, speak to him. About anything. Drag him outside for walks. Don’t give him any speeches. Let him be. And under no circumstance, are you to mention anything about tennis.”_

_“And that’s healthy.”_

_“No, but it’ll keep him afloat till I get there. And don’t panic.”_

_“What?”_

_“Jared’s not going to do anything stupid.”_

_“He looks pretty close to his breaking point.”_

_“Jared doesn’t have breaking points, kid. There’s just moments when he bends a little.”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_Morgan laughs. “You still have a lot to learn, Murray. You don’t know him yet.”_

_“I know him enough to be worried.”_

_“You might not believe me, but it’s the best thing he can do right now.”_

_“What, being like this? Letting himself be like this?”_

_“Exactly.”_

_“I can’t wait to hear this explanation.”_

_“Jared’s disappointed. Sure, he’s disappointed he didn’t win. This is the only Grand Slam trophy he didn’t have. But he’s more disappointed in himself. He made a mistake.”_

_“He made more than one, I don’t know what match you saw.”_

_“I’m not talking about the match, Murray. Or, at least, not about the points.”_

_“Well, how’d he think it would go, sleeping with his opponent?”_

_“Murray, you have as much tact as Collins’ one year old daughter. She pees in front of people.”_

_“Well, they haven’t exactly been discreet!”_

_“They have. You’re just nosy.”  Silence for a few beats. “It’s okay. Jared told me you’re doing a very good job. Keep doing it, and you stay.”_

_“Right.”_

_“And never speak like that about it to Jared. Tom’s been more than that for him.”_

_Murray nods. “Yeah. A mistake. I got it.”_

_“Can you handle it for a few days? Or do I need to call someone else?”_

_“I can handle it.” A pause. “But you’re coming?”_

_“Of course I am, kid. Jared needs me.”_   
  


_~_   
  
  


MARCH 2016

MIAMI, FLORIDA

Jensen hates traveling.

He loves the actual destinations, but the traveling in itself? The plane rides with a soundtrack of screaming babies and cranky passengers, the early hours, the crowded airports – not so much.

That’s why, when he arrives in Miami at 8 o’clock in the morning after a three hour flight, Jensen is crabby and still mostly asleep. He makes his way through the crowd, dragging all his baggage and camera equipment with him, trying not to injure someone while focusing on his phone.

He finally manages to speed dial Danneel.

“Hey there, sunshine,” she greets him cheerfully.

His answer is decidedly less enthusiastic.

“Morning.”

“What’s the matter, Jensen? Didn’t get your beauty sleep?”

He can hear the smile in her voice, but it doesn’t help matters.

“Remind me again why you booked me a five AM flight?”

There’s silence for a few moments. “I didn’t. Padalecki’s guy did.”

Jensen rubs his hand over his face. “Fuck me. This is revenge, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

Jensen proceeds to tell Danneel about the exchange of emails, and the following meeting, where things thankfully stayed at a bearable level of awkward.

“Stop laughing, Danni. It’s not funny.”

“It is, it so is.”

Jensen rolls his eyes.

“He asked me straight out, Danni. What the hell was I supposed to say?”

“Yes, it’s his fault. Definitely.”

It’s been on his mind last few weeks. Peripherally, since the brief meeting with Padalecki and Collins didn’t seem to be something of consequence, but still there’s a voice niggling at him, trying to figure out why Padalecki gets under his skin so badly.

“So where am I going?”

“Tennis Center, Court Five,” Danneel replies. “He has practice, then a shoot for an ad campaign.”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “Seriously?”

“It’s for his organization.”

Jensen stays silent. He’s heard about it. The _Inspire through Tennis Foundation_ is a project in its last stages of development, ready to hit the ramp, and Jensen assumes the timing of the book deal is related to it.

“I told you,” Jensen points out, unable to restrain himself. “Told you there was an ulterior motive.”

“Uh-huh. Trying to help kids dream for a life for themselves, yes, despicable.”

Jensen opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his lips – he doesn’t actually have a valid argument, he’s simply reacting on autopilot to mistrust Padalecki’s intentions.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I won’t say anything.”

“I think you’ve said enough.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Danni,” he says, a little louder than strictly necessary.

Danneel laughs, throws a quick ‘see you tonight’, and hangs up.

Jensen’s bad mood didn’t evaporate, but, like usual, Danneel made it better, despite continuous attempts at mocking him.

When he gets out of the car, he’s prepared himself to spend a whole day with Padalecki with the sole purpose of figuring him out.  
  


~  
  
  


“Come on, Jared. Concentrate! That’s the third shot in a row that’s gone out,” Morgan yells.

Padalecki frowns, glares at the next ball like it’s the source of all his problems.

But it’s too long. Again.

“Pull your motherfuckin’ arm back!”

Morgan’s far from the quiet guy Jensen had first met.

“Again!”

And Jared executes. Again, and again, until Morgan’s shouts taper down to acceptable decibels. Jared doesn’t talk back, he doesn’t throw his racquet down in a furious response.

Jensen knows Padalecki’s angry. He’s come to know what the tight lips, the white-knuckled grip on the racquet mean. Padalecki is mad, but at himself, pressing harder, digging deeper with each shot, each step.

Jensen is beginning to see this is only part of the physical training Padalecki does to keep in shape. He’d always thought that elite athletes were crazy healthy people with bodies that had superhuman abilities of endurance. Now Jensen thinks they’re just insane – no one would voluntarily put their body under this kind of pressure and strain.

But Padalecki does. He runs every day, he lifts weights, swims – and a bunch of other stuff that Jensen doesn’t even want to think about too much.

Jensen has to admire the perseverance and dedication Padalecki puts out. He shoots the pictures that he thinks best express that, focusing on the frown that makes faint lines ripple across Padalecki’s forehead, on the bandages on his fingers, the elastic wrap on his knee.

He loses himself in his own element, forgetting about everything other than the image in his viewfinder.

And it pays off. One of the last photographs from the practice shows Padalecki and Morgan talking, Morgan seated on one of the player’s benches, Padalecki in front of him, listening, hands on his hips, head turned towards the back line of the court.

It’s simple enough. But the way the shadow of white and light blue sharpens against the fiery wave of clouds – Padalecki is a colossus, a beautiful statue that transcends the notion of time. Morgan is looking up, and he’s talking – but he looks human, ordinary, unremarkable in comparison.

It’s a gorgeous shot, one that will definitely make the cut.

He keeps clicking the shutter, multiple exposures that shouldn’t have value to him, not outside the inherent pride of having taken it. And yet, it brings up feelings, feelings that Jensen can’t identify.

It’s all a muddy bundle of emotion and thought that settles inside Jensen’s chest, a tightness that doesn’t give out until Padalecki moves away and Jensen puts the camera down.

Jensen’s left standing on the empty court, motionless, stuck inside the images that play in his mind.  
  


~  
  
  


Their next stop is the beach, where Padalecki is supposed to film some scenes for an ad campaign and Jensen is supposed to photograph him doing it. The fading daylight makes Jensen unsure about this being the best conditions, but he doesn’t voice his concerns.

He doesn’t really know what this campaign is for. Jensen has been informed about the big picture, the ‘details that mattered’, as Collins put it. Padalecki will interact with some kids he helped over the years, and video will show what a charitable, stand-up guy he is.

The last part might not have been how Collins phrased it.

Jensen is surprised to find he wants to believe.

He watches Jared retain the good-naturedness he’s displayed since Jensen’s been involved in the book project as he interacts with the teenagers. Clearly Padalecki knows these kids. It gets harder and harder to argue that it is all just a good act – because the way he talks to these kids – some shy, scared, stuttering whenever they notice a camera getting too close, some loud, gregarious types that beg for the attention of everyone around – that has to be honest. Jared becomes a presence that, despite his size, is relegated to supporting role.

The kids aren’t coached to say anything other than their story. How Padalecki helped them get to this point, to a stable life that wouldn’t have been possible without his involvement. The player fades into the background, save for a hearty laugh or a supporting hand put over someone’s shoulder.

Who is Jared Padalecki?

That’s the question plaguing Jensen’s mind.

There are moments when he thinks he’s totally misjudged him, and moments where he asks himself why it matters, anyway.  
  


~  
  


“You’re really taking this brooding hero thing seriously.”

Padalecki turns around, movement quick, eyes wide.

“Jensen.”

“Yeah. We’re wrapping up and heading out. Think you can join us?”

The tension seeps out of Padalecki’s body. Jensen just sees his lips curving into a smile in the dim light.

“No. I’m staying for a bit.”

Jensen sighs. “I’ve been sent to collect you. Apparently, none of your babysitters are here. So, can you –“

“No, I can’t,” Jared interrupts. “I appreciate the concern –“

“No concern, just for my paycheck.”

“ – but I’m fine,” Padalecki finishes, wry smile twisting his features.

His tone is firm. Jensen has come to wonder if this calm and composed thing is just to mess with him. When he talks with Jared, Jensen always feels … uneasy. Restless. There’s too much going on, thoughts speeding up, threatening to spill over, always in the wrong thing to be said.

But Padalecki is unnervingly serene.

All the words being said to him, all the events happening around him hit a wall. And, somehow, that doesn’t translate into dispassionate, or distant. It’s just the opposite. The emotions can be clearly studied on Jared’s face, in his gestures and movements. But nothing stays the same for too long. Padalecki lets go, as easily as he lets himself feel, and Jensen is envious of that, envious of the balance Jared has while Jensen always feels like he’s hanging on by a thread.

“Just –“

Jensen doesn’t know how to finish that. He needs Padalecki to come with him. That’s his objective right now. That’s what he’s been tasked with.

“Are you in a hurry?” Padalecki asks abruptly.

Jensen bites back a sarcastic response.

“Sit,” Padalecki continues, patting the sand near him and stretching his other hand outward, towards the ocean, “And watch.”

“Are you serious?”

As an answer to that, Padalecki does the most infuriating thing, just shrugs and turns back around. His white shirt stretches around his shoulders when he brings his hands forward, props them on his raised knees.

Jensen runs his hands through his closely cropped hair, stares at his feet for a few moments. He breathes deep, tries to unclench his fist.

He ends up on the cold sand, legs crossed in front of him.

“Now what?”

“Now you relax,” Padalecki answers without looking at him.

“Look, I’m sure this Zen master thing is working out for you, but –“

“Shut up.”

Jensen’s stunned into silence. He never heard Padalecki talk like that.

“Please, Jensen, just –“

He’s turned his head towards Jensen, and maybe it’s the almost inexistent light playing tricks on him, but his eyes seem a bit too glassy.

“I need – silence. Or something pleasant to talk about. Today – today I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Jensen asks, completely perplexed by the turn of events.

Jared gestures with his left hand. “This. You. The remarks. I’ve been allowing them –“

“ _Allow_?”

“Yes. _Allow_. Allow as in let any person who doesn’t know me to talk to me like that. Like he knows anything about me.”

Jensen scoffs. “I know plenty about you.”

“Do you know anything real? I want to get along, Jensen, and I’ll do anything in my power to do that – but there has to be respect between us.”

Jensen flinches. “Or what?”

Padalecki just looks at him, long, uncomfortable seconds where Jensen just wants to crawl out of his skin.

“I don’t get you, Jensen,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t get why you’ve been so against me from the start.”

“What you don’t understand is someone not falling at your feet after trying to impress him,” Jensen replies, fully aware that he’s walking on very thin ice.

“I wasn’t trying to impress you.”

Padalecki’s answer surprises a sarcastic laugh out of Jensen.

“I was just being me. The best I know how. That’s all I’ll ever do, for you, or anyone else,” Jared states, conviction dripping from every word, so much that Jensen’s taken aback. “I don’t want or need your approval. I learned a long time ago that doing things for someone else as opposed to yourself is a quick way to forget who you are completely.”

How can Jensen answer that?

He looks away, stares at the waves reaching with frothy white claws towards the sand.

It’s not about Padalecki. Jensen’s attitude has never been about him, probably.

It’s Jensen’s own flaws, his own past mistakes haunting him. Padalecki is just an easy target. This is about Jensen not knowing if he made the right decision in coming here.

He tries like hell to put it out of his mind, and, most of the time, he manages to concentrate on the task at hand. He’s gotten good at ignoring things he doesn’t like about himself.

But today was a long day.

And maybe, he thinks it shouldn’t be easy. The guilt dissolves into frustration, and that, he’s familiar with.

“I wish my daughter was here,” Jensen says after minutes, hours, _years_ lost in rhythmic tap of the ocean rustling, staggering towards land.

Padalecki isn’t fazed by the change in subject. “Here, Miami _here_?”

“Yeah,” Jensen answers without thinking. “Here…with me.”

Jensen doesn’t know why he’s admitting such a thing to Padalecki. Maybe because he’s a stranger, a stranger who doesn’t know him, can’t see the fear that lives inside him.

“Danneel told me this was a hard decision for you,” Jared says, voice level, no inflection at all. “Why did you come?”

Maybe because Jensen didn’t expect it, he answers honestly. He doesn’t have time to think about the _right_ reply.

“Because I wanted to,” Jensen starts. There’s usually an explanation after that.

He needs to justify the guilt he’s feeling for having left Sky. He needs to explain that he thought about this decision, long and hard, and he isn’t just some irresponsible dad. Jensen needs someone to understand.

It feels like he’s spent the last years talking, debating, explaining – having to justify himself. Jensen had a hard time adjusting to being a parent. It wasn’t a big thing, screams, cries, catastrophe, panicking in front of a new life.

No, it was worse than that; it was a slow decline where he stumbled along the road and got back up. But every time, Jensen left behind a part of his identity. Before Sky, Jensen knew very well who he was. But that changed, somehow, without him noticing, while he was concentrating on doing his best in the circumstances.

And now – now, Jensen wants to find out again. He needs it. He can’t continue living like this, in fear of failing Sky and himself, on the edge of falling, desperately trying to hang on to something solid.

“I think you have your answer right there,” Padalecki interrupts his thoughts.

Jensen barely manages to switch his focus back.

“What?”

“Nothing, just giving out unsolicited advice.”

It’s playful, and the faint smile spread over Padalecki’s face makes anchors Jensen down in reality.

“You talk a lot,” Jensen quips, but without the usual heat.

Jared arches an eyebrow. “So?”

“So here’s your opportunity for a big speech.”

“Would that help you?”

Jensen thinks about it for a few seconds. “Not really.”

“Well, that’s the answer to that question, then.”

“There was no question.”

Padalecki sighs in exasperation. “I really thought we made some progress there, Ackles.”

“We did,” Jensen concedes, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy.”

The tennis player fixes Jensen with his gaze, eyes narrowed, appraising. Then, without words, turns back around, towards the ocean.

Jensen leans back on his elbows. The wet sand sticks to his skin, and shivers run up his spine it doesn’t bother him.

It’s…comfortable.

It’s peace Jensen never thought he would find sitting near Jared Padalecki.

Jensen’s still a little confused about him. But right now, he doesn’t really care. In this moment, Jensen doesn’t need to know anything else.

“We staying on the beach until morning?”

“Sure.”

Jensen sighs. “I suppose I deserved that.”

Padalecki’s laugh is resonant, melts into the sharp sound of the waves crashing down, roaring and clawing at the sand.

“You definitely did.”

After a few seconds of silence, he continues, voice turning more serious. “You can go. I want to stay a little while longer.”

Jensen studies Jared’s back, the only part of him he can distinguish in the poor light. He hasn’t moved – it’s only Jensen that shifted back, let himself fall in the sand. “If you get a cold or anything like that – “

Jared chuckles. “Most of the time, I’m an adult, Ackles. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Still. I’m sort of responsible.”

At that, Padalecki’s head turns towards him, and, after a few moments of squinting in the growing dark, he brings his hands back, leans on them while unfolding his legs and straightening up.

“You’re not. Chad, or whoever put you up to this, they pulled a prank on you,” Jared says, shaking his head. “And me,” he adds after a pause.

Jensen frowns. “You? Why?”

“Well…” Padalecki starts, strangely unsure, “you might have been right on something. I don’t really know how to act around people that don’t like me.”

Huh. Jensen wouldn’t have guessed that.

“I can’t be the first person that had a wrong start.”

Padalecki laughs, but it’s wry.

“Of course you aren’t. There’s lots of people that don’t like me. And I’m fine with that, because they’re far away, you know? At their computers, in a talk show, on the radio, whatever. I can ignore that. But you – you’re right here,” Jared finishes, stammering a little towards the end of the sentence.

At that moment, Jensen discovers the champion is human, after all.

“You’ve handled it pretty well,” Jensen admits. “Even my mom was surprised you didn’t fire me, especially after those emails.”

“That’s nice of your mom, but it’s okay. I can take it, it’s just a matter of adjusting.”

Well, Jared is one Zen motherfucker, because in his place, Jensen would have definitely taken a different approach, probably of the ‘decking the guy’ kind.

“How the hell do you do that?” Jensen asks, because he’s genuinely curious.

“Do what?”

“I don’t know – _adjust._ Does anything ever bother you?”

As ridiculous as it sounds, it’s a valid question. Even on the field, when things are going to hell in a hand basket, Jensen thinks he’s only seen him visibly upset on the court that one time.

“A lot of things bother me,” Jared replies, shrugging. “But they’re only as important as I make them. Losing a match – I don’t want to think about it, but it doesn’t work to just tell your brain _not_ to think about something.”

“So you just ignore the stuff you don’t like?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Jared answers after a brief pause. “I just think it’s easy to get bogged down in what’s wrong, or doesn’t go as well as you wanted. I can live in fear of reliving those moments, and keep them at a distance, or I can let them in fully and accept the experience as part of who I am.  But I demand more from me – I think I can do better. I can concentrate on the good things around me.”

Jensen smiles, just a curve of his lips that melts almost as soon as he speaks. “It’s that simple, huh?”

“It’s not simple at all,” Jared corrects. “It’s a fight every day. Some days are easy, and some make you wonder if you can do it at all.”

Padalecki is definitely using other words than Jensen would have – but he’s expressing something Jensen can relate to, that makes complete sense to him.

“Sometimes I look at Sky – and in that moment, everything’s worth it. The world is right. But –“ Jensen stops, doesn’t know if he can continue. He finds the courage, ”then I get a bill, or Sky tells me she needs another ten things for a school trip, and –“

“It gets harder to see it,” Jared finishes for him.

Jensen nods, almost unconscious movement. “Yeah…”

It’s liberating, talking about this honestly. He does it a little with his mom, with his friends – but he always tries to pretty things up. To his mom, in order not to burden her with his struggles, to his friends, because he is ashamed of it.

“Maybe it’s a matter of accepting the moments when we’re weak,” Jared offers.

Jensen understands that he’s speaking for both of them – but still, he can’t help but recoil at the last word. It’s one of his greatest fears – being weak when others need him.

Jared must notice, because the next thing he says is, “Hello, fellow control freak.”

He’s turned to look at Jensen, and he’s smiling self-deprecatingly. “I’m Jared, and I like to think I can do everything perfectly.”

Jensen, despite himself, grins.

“And that’s not arrogance?” he teases.

Padalecki shrugs, answers more frankly than the question merited. “Sure. Part of it is. But mostly, it’s setting standards for myself but not getting upset when the reality doesn’t meet the expectations.”

“Are we talking like, winning Grand Slams, or what? Because you have to know that no one can –“

“No, no –“ Jared interrupts him, “I’m talking day to day. I’m talking about this,” he says, tilting his head towards the beach behind him. “I wish I could have done more for these kids. I wish they didn’t have the life they have. I wish –“

“For peace in the world? ‘Cause that’s where you’re going,” Jensen informs him. “You can’t fix everything.”

Jared shakes his head. “I don’t want to fix this. I – in a way of speaking, I welcome this feeling. It reminds me of the importance of things, makes me feel … _alive_ , motivated to try doing more, however I can,” he trails off.

Jensen’s not sure why he thinks he has the right to ask the question that comes out.

“You lost in Australia. And your ranking keeps dropping. Isn’t that eating you up?”

When Jared doesn’t answer, Jensen thinks he’s finally crossed the boundary line. When he does respond, Jared continues to stare at the ocean as he speaks quietly.

“I ask myself if I did my best each time. There was a time when my best was pretty damn superior to everyone who came up against me, you know? It’s easy to get hooked on feeling entitled, and it’s even easier to live setting up your expectations to what you were in the past. But I’ve been around over ten years now. I’m not as physically fast. Sometimes my muscles are too tight, or too loose, and shots I’ve made over and over don’t fall where they’re supposed to. So I try to accept that. Figure out where I am today. Tomorrow. In each tournament. I could beat myself up about it, replay every game in my head until I go crazy. But the truth is, some days, the opponent is just better than I am. I hold much respect for each and every player in front of me – because every one of them can beat me…but I’m going to give my best every time. I’m going to keep fighting until it’s clear I’m no longer a viable player. Then I’ll move on to something else. I want to make a difference with my foundation. Help others to keep fighting. Because knowing that there is someone who is in your corner, who believes you can do it…well, it’s what I have to do.”

Jensen doesn’t know what to say. He thinks it’s possible he’s been a jerk to someone who may not have deserved it. An hour ago Padalecki was an irritation, judged by the pieces Jensen had fixated on. Now – now he’s someone else entirely.

“Next on the tour is Rome, right?”

“Wh – “, Jared replies, confused by the change in subject. “Yeah, Rome. Clay. Why?”

Jensen shrugs. “I was thinking you could give me the tour of the city on one of the days you’re not playing.”

This is taking a risk, jumping into something with no guarantee. But maybe it’s time he started doing things a little differently.

Jared grins. “You’re only saying that because you’re cold now and you want to leave.”

“True, very true. I’m fu –“ Jensen catches himself, then remembers Sky’s not around. “I’m fucking freezing,” he finishes around a laugh.

“You’re dramatic,” Jared points out, “but nonetheless, you make a good point. We’ll leave it for another day. You’ll like Rome.”

“You better hope so, Padalecki.”

Jared chuckles, gets up, extends a hand for Jensen to help him. Contrary to his instinct, Jensen takes it, feels the warmth seeping in his palm.

“Come on, let’s go eat. I’m starving,” Jared says, and Jensen finds some camaraderie he didn’t know he needed.  
  


~  
  


Jared loses early in the tournament – he reaches only the third round. That means Jensen gets to go home from Florida earlier than planned.

The letdown he feels seeing Jared lose his match is new.

 

 


	6. Part Five

_APRIL 2010_

_MONTE CARLO FINAL, T.WELLING vs J. PADALECKI_

_MATCH COMMENTATORS: Christian Kane, former World No. 1 & Kate Cassidy, sports journalist_

**_Kane:_ ** _We’re definitely seeing a much improved Padalecki today; did you see that forehand? That was unbelievable! He’s regained the strength he lost in the last few years, that precision he surprised everyone with when he was young._

**_Cassidy:_ ** _I think it has everything to do with his mental state._

**_Kane:_ ** _I’ve always said tennis is a game of the mind._

**_Cassidy:_ ** _Yeah, definitely. Padalecki’s starting to believe he can win again, I think. That final with Welling from US Open in 2008 rattled him pretty good. He didn’t seem the same after that. Even when he started in the circuit, he had that confidence many considered to be entitlement…I always saw it as a guy who knew what he wanted._

**_Kane_ ** _: I agree with you, Kate. That final was a pivotal moment, and I think not only for Padalecki as a tennis player, but as a person – it was a rough several months. The gossip around him, the speculation –_

**_Cassidy:_ ** _I’ll be the first to admit I like a juicy bit when I’m writing an article about an athlete. You want that, you know? Readers want to get to know the other side of these freaking cyborgs who accomplish superhuman things on the field. But the way everything was handled in Padalecki’s case was despicable._

**_Kane_ ** _: I don’t know, back in my time, wasn’t like that. It was what you did on the field. That’s who you were as a public person. Nobody cared much after that._

**_Cassidy_ ** _: Well, I think that’s partly true. You can’t tell me that a rumor about a player being gay wouldn’t have made some waves, Chris._

**_Kane_ ** _: Sure…yeah, of course. But on the other hand, do you think people would have asked?_

**_Cassidy:_ ** _Would you have cared if they did?_

**_Kane:_ ** _No. But I was always like that. Didn’t give a – um, didn’t listen to anyone. Which was good and bad, but kept me away from the really ugly stuff._

**_Cassidy:_ ** _I think Padalecki’s handled it pretty well. At least now, he seems to have found a groove –_

**_Kane:_ ** _Groove?_

**_Cassidy:_ ** _Rhythm?_

**_Kane:_ ** _Yeah. That sounds better._

**_Cassidy:_ ** _Inexact language aside, Chris, I stick to my opinion that Padalecki managed to find it in him not only to get back to his former state of play, but improve on certain points. He’s starting to play more intelligently._

**_Kane:_ ** _I noticed that, too. I always thought his big downfall was that he played to his own tune – he’s a player that adapts really well to conditions of a game, to the score, doesn’t let it affect his level of play, whether he’s winning or losing. But it always seemed to me like he had trouble fitting his game to the player in front of him. He always studies his opponents very well, but doesn’t seem to get that they don’t play like him – they don’t have that constancy and consistency in their game like he has. Padalecki treats them as if they played the same throughout the whole match – and that’s a mistake. You have to adjust to the rhythm; you have to understand when to push and when to draw back._

**_Cassidy:_ ** _You’re right. He opens himself more to failure; he tries more difficult shots. I like seeing him out of his comfort zone on the court._

**_Kane:_ ** _Definitely makes for more interesting matches. Like this one, which is about to restart._

**_Cassidy:_ ** _It’s an interesting match, Chris, I’ll give you that, but I think it’s pretty clear that it’s not Welling’s day. Padalecki’s just too good today._

**_Kane:_ ** _I’d like to disagree with you on that, because I love more balanced games – but with a set and leading 5-3 in the second, I think this is the last game we’re watching today._

**_Cassidy:_ ** _Padalecki’s serving – let’s see if he manages to close the match._   
  


_~_   
  


ROME, MAY 2016  
  


To Jensen’s surprise, Jared doesn’t forget about his promise. And to his dismay, he is woken up at seven-thirty on the dot by a knock on the hotel door.

“Hi,” Jared says, grinning from ear to ear, and offering no immediate explanation for the drop by.

Jensen just glares at him, eyes still bleary from sleep. He is certain he doesn’t have the friendliest of expressions.

“I thought we’d make it an all day tour,” Jared finally takes pity on a confused Jensen.

“Oh,” Jensen ever so helpfully replies, voice still scratchy. “O-okay. Just give me half an hour to get ready.”

Jared nods, and there’s that awkward moment where Jensen doesn’t know whether to invite him in or –

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

Padalecki is definitely better at solving problems early in the morning.

Jensen doesn’t quite get what’s happening until he showers and drinks a cup of cold coffee – in a can, courtesy of the mini bar, which he solemnly swears to himself not to do ever again.

The enthusiasm Jared has for this is a bit unsettling. Today he looks like a freaking Viking, but still acts like a kid.

Jensen thought he’d outgrown child-like enthusiasm. Only crazy people stopped to smell the roses, right?

Or is that how the sane ones stay sane?  
  


~  
  
  


Dressed in a plain white V-neck t-shirt and jeans, and infinitely more awake than half an hour ago, Jensen meets Jared in the lobby.

“Hey,” Jensen says, smiling faintly himself.

Excitement is contagious, seemingly. Or, maybe it’s just temporary insanity, the kind that prompted this meeting in the first place.

Jared is wearing a pair of off-white chinos that fit him like a glove, and when Jared turns and slips his hand in his pockets, the fabric stretches tautly across his ass.

Dear God, those training sessions are doing their job.

“So, what do you want to do first?” Jared asks.

Jensen looks up to him. “You’re the expert, right? How many times have you visited Rome?”

“A lot?”

“The fact you can’t remember the number is my answer. What do you suggest?”

Jared tilts his head, presses his lips together. “Well, the Colosseum is an obvious choice. I’d say we go there first. Sometimes it closes without much warning, so we should take the opportunity if we have it.”

“Okay. Well, to the Colosseum, then,” Jensen agrees without much thought.

The streets of Rome are busy, piazzas and piazzetas filled with locals and tourists alike, a multitude of cameras in sight.

As they walk, some of the cameras turn towards them, towards Jared – his dark forest green shirt stands out against the pastel background of the city, but it’s his commanding height that draws the onlookers eyes at first, followed by recognition.

However, few people who actually approach him. Padalecki might be famous, but he’s also imposing enough that people think twice about walking up to him.

Jensen’s happy to be an observer, watching the wonders that surround him.

Today he has his camera with him, and through the lens, it’s like being in another world.

Not so much the people or the surroundings, but the feel of the place, the age that permeates through the architecture of the buildings, the paved, narrow streets that disseminate history. It’s something pulling in Jensen’s chest, the feeling of being lucky enough to be here, and the unexplainable melancholy of seeing ruins of the grand Roman Empire.

Jared seems equally fascinated by the amazing city – they walk side by side, but they don’t talk very much, just periodic exclamations when they spot something. It’s nice, actually – Jensen hadn’t expected him to be this quiet. Jared’s eagerness for the visit has faded into silent fascination, and if Jensen didn’t know how many times the player has seen Rome, he’d think it was the first time.

The Colosseum, though – Jensen himself can’t help his exclamation of awe upon seeing it.

The arena is monumental, concrete and sand molded into massive shapes that tower over them. To think that this is where gladiator fights took place – images play in Jensen’s mind, and for one moment, he’s there, he can feel the heat, smell the blood of the gladiators in the air.

“No matter how many times I see it, I still can’t get over this,” Jared completes his thoughts perfectly.

Jensen nods.

This is why he’s here, why he and his family made the sacrifice. This is his dream, _here_ , with his camera in hand, looking at history.

But it’s a transient dream, its value only in the memories.

Standing here, he realizes the future isn’t here. It will never be again, not as long as Sky needs him. The future is in Sky’s hands, in her smile, in her happiness.

He’s changed…the world’s changed. The way Jensen looks at it, there are opposing forces pulling at him, the man of his past, and the man he wants to be.

He’s lived the last several years fighting every day, and not for happiness, like Jared said – but for the strength to survive. He’d looked at everything like a race, with the goal of a finish line that got further and further away.

And here, watching Jared, right now – he understands something more.

Jared is living in today, the present, he’s lost in the greatest way, because the only thing he finds is himself. Jensen always believed that it was a matter of keeping it inside, being strong, being _invincible_ for those around. Consequently, that meant putting up a front, covering with a smile all the things that felt like they were suffocating him.

It was the only way, right?

What Jensen’s figuring out as he stand in the shadow of one of history’s greatest monuments, next to a man he thought he couldn’t stand, is – it doesn’t matter. He can let go of the control he’d held on to by the skin of his teeth.

And yet, it’s the best place to understand that this fear that threatened to crush him with its weight is his own creation. Maybe if he plans for ten different scenarios, imagines the worst, he will be prepared.

But life will inevitably throw out the eleventh possibility – and Jensen will have lived without the courage to be present, to enjoy the moment without worrying about what was and what will be. It will be wasted time, time he could use to be conscious of all the good things in his life.

Jared is right. It’s not that simple. It’s a journey, and not this single decision of right now. It’s a commitment to telling himself every day, every hour, every second, that he can – he can do everything he needs to do, everything he puts his mind to. He’s enough.

The realization makes him feel … light. Weightless, and just a little bit dizzy.

He must be smiling or something, because Jared’s looking at him strangely.

“What?” Jensen asks without any heat.

Jared shakes his head. “Nothing. You –“ he starts, but cuts himself off. Then, taking a deep breath, looking straight at Jensen, “You’re beautiful.”

It’s the first time Jensen notices how the green in Jared’s shirt brings out the specks of emerald in the hazel of Jared’s eyes. The tennis player keeps his head up, gaze still locked with Jensen’s, who has literally no clue how to answer that.

Padalecki solves that for him, too, clearing his throat, and transitioning into what should be an awkward segueway, which Jared still manages to handle with some grace.

“That being said,” he says around a slightly unsure grin, “I think we should go eat. There’s a great place not far from here.”

And that’s that. Jared turns around. Left to stare at Padalecki’s back, Jensen has nothing else to do but follow him, and hope like hell he finds at least a few words next time Jared decides to say something like that out of the blue.

Jensen needs a warning, especially for the tingly feeling spreading through his chest and stomach, and arms – _seriously_.  
  


~  
  
  


The restaurant is cozy and offers a reprieve from the heat outside. They head toward a corner table, hoping to be shielded from the attention of the fans Jared has acquired in the short walk.

“Jesus, how do you deal with that?” Jensen asks as soon as they sit down.

He’s surprised that Jared hasn’t let the intrusive attention ruin his good mood.

“Sometimes I like it,” Jared shrugs, “making people smile with something as easy as a photo or an autograph. And yeah, why be a hypocrite – it kind of makes you feel good.”

“Lots of stories out there about you refusing photos and stuff,” Jensen comments, opening the menu.

“Well, sometimes there’s got to be a moment when you say, this is all I can do right now.”

“Right.”

Put that way, it sounds different from the arrogant, entitled guy Jensen had pigeonholed him as.

“Okay, where’s the English translation in this menu?”

Jared looks puzzled for a fraction of a second, the time it takes to switch gears.

“I suggest you try the _agnello_ – that’s lamb,” Jared says, without even opening his own menu.

Jensen arches an eyebrow. “What, no pasta?”

“Or pizza.”

“True _connoisseur_ , huh?” Jensen teases.

“You bet,” Jared chuckles. “No, it’s more about what I like. Pasta is delicious here, too.”

Jensen stares at Padalecki for a few seconds.

“What?”

“I’m just trying to decide if I should trust you,” Jensen replies, fully conscious of the double meaning.

It’s – he isn’t quite sure what this is. Tentative flirtation, pure insanity, spur-of-the moment, hunger-induced verbosity. He’s enjoying himself, and he’d like to keep the door open to all possibilities, even though he’s not ready to think about what they might be.

And the tennis player seems to agree, because he smirks. However, he stays silent, and Jensen is struck by the impishness that Jared’s dimples project.

Caught up studying Jared’s features, Jensen almost doesn’t notice the waiter.

“Hi – _buongiorno,_ ” Jensen greets, exercising literally the only Italian words he knows.

“Hello, welcome,” the guy says, in a surprising American accent, “I’m Rick, how can I be of service today?”

It’s only now that Jensen notices Jared’s muffled giggling.

“Jensen, this is Richard Speight. He’s a friend of Jeff’s. Rich, meet Jensen Ackles, the photographer on our team,” Jared explains.

Jensen shakes Rich’s hand. The guy’s gone from the pleasant smile to a genuine grin.

“Sorry, I like to do that with all the people Jared brings here,” Rich says, laughing and shifting towards Padalecki, clapping him on the back. “I’m the owner here, and this guy apparently knows no other restaurant in this city.”

“It’s nice,” Jensen feels the need to say.

“You think it’s nice now, wait till you taste the food,” Rich boasts. “Speaking of that, what can we get you?”

Jensen looks for Jared to order first, but Speight shakes his head.

“I already know what I’m bringing Jared – there’s not a lot of options when he’s here for the tournament,” Rich jokes, looking at Jensen. “So it’s only you who gets to choose.”

“I’ll go with the lamb, and campanelle,” Jensen says.

He receives two approving nods.

“Good man,” Rich replies, “and to drink?”

“Coffee for me.”

“And a bowl of angel hair very light on the pesta sauce, spinach salad, no dressing, and a sparkling water with an orange-grapefruit twist for you,” Rich turns towards his friend. “It’s my duty to inform you that you are no fun when you compete.”

“I know. You tell me every time I come here before a tournament.”

“So. You simply have to win and come back for your victory meal.”

Rich leaves with a grin, and the promise to Jensen that the food will make him lick his fingers. He is so friendly and entertaining, Jensen doesn’t even mind the showmanship.

“I honestly didn’t know it took this much discipline to keep in shape for competition,” Jensen comments with sincerity, referring to the various compromises he’s seen Jared make over these months, from skipping tasty food to retiring to bed while the rest of his team are still socializing.

Jared shrugs. “I don’t think about it too much, honestly. Pretty much a habit.”

“I don’t think I could get used to it.”

“It’s discipline – one of the first things Jeff taught me,” Jared explains, hands on the table, fingers interlaced.

“Can I borrow Jeff for about a month? Need someone else to learn about discipline.”

Jared’s lips curve into a smile. “Your daughter?”

“Yeah, Sky,” Jensen nods. “She’s a great kid, but she is not disciplined. She can draw for hours, read all night, but I have to beg her to do her homework.”

“Artist,” Jared teases, “just like her father.”

Jensen takes a few seconds to decide if he should continue.

“No – it’s. Her mother used to spend entire days in bed, just reading – especially when she was pregnant. And she painted.”

It’s hard to talk about it. Jensen doesn’t want to remember the shame, guilt. But it’s not him that left. It’s not him that made that decision.

“Is she – um, is she –“

Jensen decides to take pity, interrupts Jared. “She’s not in Sky’s life.”

Jared nods, stays silent. Weirdly enough, the lack of further questions actually prompts Jensen to explain.

“I – we tried the first two years. Co-parenting, shared custody, whatever you want to call it, except we weren’t married. But one day, she showed up at my door with Sky in her arms, telling me she couldn’t do this anymore, that she’s not a mom. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell that means,” Jensen finishes. He still doesn’t get it. The moment he saw Sky, he knew, he could never _not_ love her.

So why didn’t Alona feel the same? How could she abandon her child?

“I think you’re doing a great job,” Padalecki says.

“How do you know? You haven’t even met my daughter.”

“I don’t need to see her to notice how you’re always thinking about her. How many pictures have you taken today to show her?”

Jensen tries to speak, but Jared continues. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a day pass without you calling her even when the time difference is awful.” Jared continues seriously. “Take it from me, this stuff, as little as it may seem to you, matters.”

Jensen sees a distant look in Jared’s eyes as he says that. He should ask. It’s clear there’s a story behind that little flurry of words.

But he doesn’t, because while he’s thinking of what to say, the food arrives and the subject changes.

He talks about what he’s observed about the city in his half day here, and he says Rich is right, the food is delicious.

That confession brings out a knowing smile from Jared, whose simple pasta dish is consumed in less than five minutes.

They settle into a comfortable back and forth that alternates the silent moments of eating with conversation about other places in Europe compared to Rome, and Jensen doesn’t realize how much he’s enjoying himself until Rich comes back, asks Jensen how everything was, and he answers sincerely.

“Amazing.”

It’s really fucking confusing, how much of a good time he’s having with Jared.  
  


~  
  
  


The afternoon is spent on a brief tour of the most spectacular cathedrals in the area. Jensen realizes quickly that he’s lucky to have Jared showing him around, since, by about four in the afternoon, he’s lost track of the streets and has no idea how to return to their hotel. It’s not his habit, not paying attention to this stuff – but Jared seems to have it all handled, so Jensen lets himself just enjoy the view.

The churches are a sight to behold -- they are smaller than New York skyscrapers but knowing how many years it took to build them by hand, infinitely more impressive. Jensen takes a few photos, but he can’t do them justice, as talented a photographer as he is. He can’t capture the organ playing, or the beautiful paintings on the interior walls, or the kindness of the pastor who smiles at them as they enter.

At the Basilica of San Clemente, Jared asks for a few minutes on his own. Jensen’s curious, but waits outside, watching the animated sightseers crisscrossing the plaza.

“Where to now, Padalecki?” Jensen asks when Jared comes out of the church.

“Our last stop,” Jared says, “Fontana di Trevi.”

“I have to make a wish, don’t I?”

Jared laughs. “You don’t have to, Grinch, but yeah, that’s the whole point.”

“Alright,” Jensen replies, sighing in mock exasperation. “Let’s do this.”  
  


~  
  
  


The walk to their last objective is pleasant. Somehow the topic has turned to soccer, which Jared is incredibly bad at even talking about it, because Jensen has to repeatedly explain the terms. When Jared finally asks how Jensen knows so much about it, Jensen admits it’s because Sky has been on a soccer team for the last two years.

“So when are you going to start her on tennis lessons?” Jared teases.

Jensen can see the Trevi Fountain silhouetted against the purple and fiery orange of the sunset taking over the cloudless blue sky.

As they approach the fountain, he admires the artwork filling the small square, the palace behind the fountain, the shapes and animals sculpted in its middle. Caught in the beauty of it, he doesn’t give a second thought to the two people kissing in front of the fountain.

Until who they are registers in Jensen’s brain, and he grabs Jared’s wrist, and starts to move away.

Jared turns his head, question in his eyes. Jensen motions towards the fountain, and Jared follows his gaze.

However, his reaction is much tamer than Jensen’s.

“You didn’t know?”

Jared seems genuinely confused. Well, so is Jensen.

“That Jeff and Danni are – “ he takes a look back at them, “ – an item? No, I definitely didn’t.”

“They’re cute together, aren’t they?”

Jared’s smiling. He’s having a field day with this.

Jensen punches him in the arm. “Asshole.” Then, after a few seconds, “How long – ?”

He isn’t sure what to say, or how to feel. He doesn’t get why Danneel wouldn’t have just told him.

Jared furrows his brow. “That, I’m not sure of.”

“Jared –“

“Jeff only told me he’d like to ask Danneel out on a date,” Padalecki hurries to add.

“Uh-huh.”

“And that he liked her from that first night.”

Jensen turns to look at Jared. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Jared defends. “He’s my coach. We talk. About the only thing I don’t do with Jeff is sleep!” At the expression on Jensen’s face, Jared huffs, “I don’t mean like that.” He pinches his lips in an exasperated line.

Jensen rolls his eyes. But it’s not like he and Danneel haven’t spent late nights in hotel rooms talking about everything – including Jared.

“Come on,” Jensen mutters, pulling at Jared’s arm.

“What are we doing?” Jared frowns, but compliantly follows Jensen.

“We’re letting them have their moment.”

“Oh.”

“You had another idea?”

They stop in one of the side streets, and Jensen notices the thoughtful look on Jared’s face.

“No, you’re right – “ Jared starts, “but you don’t want to make a wish?”

Jensen laughs. “Jared, it’s not like I really believe in that stuff.”

Jared smiles back, and Jensen notices how close they are. He didn’t pay attention to anything, just getting out of sight.

And now, he’s in front of Jared, inches away, fingers still pressing on Jared’s wrist.

“You don’t?” Jared asks, breathy, a little unevenly.

“I’m about doing what it takes to have your dream,” Jensen answers, thoughts racing, heartbeat increasing its rhythmic thump.

“What if you want to win the lottery?”

Jared’s smiling shakily, clearly not thinking about anything that he’s saying.

Jensen feels warm, his fingers stinging, burning where he’s touching Jared. The heat in Jared’s eyes makes Jensen flush.

“Do you want to?”

“Want what?” Jared asks, lost, pupils dilated, lips parted.

It’s a moment so fragile, it leaves Jensen unsure, wanting to run away as far as he can, and yet, not wanting to take his hand away from Jared’s skin, and Jensen is cold and too hot all at the same time.

“Boys,” a feminine voice calls out, followed by a rough laugh.

It shatters the moment, and Jensen pulls back, though he’s still mesmerized by the intensity of Jared’s hazel eyes.

It’s Danneel and Jeff, beaming at them, entirely too proud of themselves.

“Danni,” Jensen rasps, clearing his throat.

“Jensen, Jared,” Danneel responds, with an innocent look in her eyes.

Jensen expects a reply from Jared, but he stays conspicuously silent. It’s only when Jensen switches his gaze to Jeff that he realizes Jeff and Jared are having a conversation of their own, eyes locked.

Jensen’s wishes he could interpret the look in Jeff’s eyes and Jared’s unsmiling expression, but he can’t, has no point of reference.

Jeff runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, shakes his head.

“We’re going back to the hotel,” Jeff says. “You two coming?”

“Yeah,” Jared replies for both of them. “Yeah, we’re coming.”

In a disorienting reversion to high school tactics, Jeff and Jared walk ahead, starting what seems like a heated conversation, while Danneel and Jensen follow.

“Wonder what that’s all about,” Danneel chuckles.

Jensen doesn’t laugh. He fixes Danneel with his gaze, searching for an answer.

“What?” Danneel drops her carefree manner to look at Jensen seriously.

“Nothing,” Jensen denies his curiosity.

Danneel sighs. “Didn’t want to say anything until there was something to say, Jensen. That’s all.”

Jensen didn’t know what those words meant until he hears them, and the relief surges through him. He’d felt guilty. He’d felt like a bad friend. So caught up in the job, Sky, this weird thing with Jared, how his family is coping back at home, money, himself – it all seems a constant weight that he has to carry that doesn’t let him see his best friend has something happening for her.

But today, he made a decision to look at things differently.

“Come on, tell me everything,” Jensen says, looping his arm through Danneel’s, and, for the first time in a long time, smiling genuinely and letting himself be completely absorbed in someone else’s story.


	7. Part 5.5

_2012_

**From:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>  
 **Subject:** Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 22, 2012 2:15:53 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>

_Heey._

_Sending you details of a book in German I need. Chad told me you’re playing in Munich this year._

_So, yeah. Get it for me. Please? :D_

_Gen_

_P.S. I miss you, you big teddy bear. Call me. Come see me._

_P.S.S. I don’t think your PT Chad understands we’re friends. I think he thinks I’m stalking you. Little slow on the gay uptake, he is?_

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>  
 **Subject:** RE: Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 23, 2012 08:15:53 AM PDT  
 **To:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>

_Oh my God, tell me you are not sending me to buy ten-ton Med books again. Last time I think I sprained my wrist carrying the bag._

_Love you too. Please don’t call me teddy bear. That became awkward after sixth grade._

_Jay_

_P.S. Chad is weird, don’t mind him. Call me crazy, but I actually like him._

 

 **From:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>  
 **Subject:** RE: Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 23, 2012 10:46:23 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>

_You princess, they aren’t that heavy! I know because I carry about five of them every day._

_I swear sometimes you’re two different persons; the guy on the court who looks like he could lead Sparta, and a complete wuss outside of it._

_Please explain this phenomenon._

_Gen._

_P.S. LIKE like him?_

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>  
 **Subject:** RE: Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 24, 2012 08:10:53 AM PDT  
 **To:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>

_Gen,_

_I need to start with this: NO. Not LIKE. Like as in he does a good job putting me back together every time I screw up something in my body. Plus, he’s got zero filter when he speaks. Which is a little too much information sometimes, but otherwise pretty refreshing from all the people that are trying to get me to do stuff. Doing ads is fun, but someone clearly doesn’t understand if he’s asking me to do one for cigarettes._

_Yeah, yeah. I’ll get your stuff. You’re very funny._

_Love,_

_Jay_

 

 **From:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>  
 **Subject:** RE: Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 24, 2012 11:22:42 AM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>

_Well, you’re Mr. Bigshot now, so. By the way, you need to get someone to deal with that stuff. I have the number of a guy, sending it to you. His name is Misha, and I promise he’s not an asshole like your previous guy, Steve. He’s really good._

_How’re you doing, by the way? Still good?_

_Saw you last week; you kicked ass! The whole Cortese family cheered you on._

_(Do you know my dad still slips in casually in every conversation, ‘that’s my daughter’s best friend; no, really, they grew up together!’ Still as goddamn awkward as it was years ago. How is that possible? Don’t you build, like, immunity for parent embarrassment?)_

_Gen_

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>  
 **Subject:** RE: Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 24, 2012 05:32:33 PM PDT  
 **To:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>

_Thanks for the number. I’m not really sure. Don’t want to deal with another guy like Steve, who does more harm than good._

_Yes. I’m good._

_You know, good days, bad days, like everyone else. But I feel like I’ve found…I don’t know what to call it other than...peace. Silence. Whatever. But since that summer, I realized that a lot of stuff is just background noise._

_I have a project in the works, talking with Jeff about it…helping. That’s what I figure it all comes down to. I hope I can do some good things. Still have a lot of work, but…_

_Does it make sense that I’m more sure of myself than I ever was, but at the same time, not sure at all?_

_Jay_

 

 **From:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>  
 **Subject:** RE: Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 26, 2012 03:23:12 AM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>

_You’re sure of yourself, Padalecki. It’s just something you haven’t done before. You just have to trust that you can do this thing, like the shitload of stuff you faced head on and came out on the other side winning._

_And that is my diploma talking. Certified psychiatrist here, so._ _J_

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com](mailto:jaredpadalecki@tennnetwork.com)>  
 **Subject:** RE: Buy me a book  
 **Date:** April 26, 2012 01:13:42 PM PDT  
 **To:** Genevieve Cortese <gen_cortese@ninjamail.co.uk>

_Ha._

_Yeah, yeah. Weak moment there. Most of the time, I’m sure. 95%. (The rest I have you for.)_

_Oh, and I forgot last time, tell your dad hi. I’m bringing him that golf stuff he bugged me for. This time I got the right club, I promise._

_And – telling everyone we were friends throughout school is infinitely less embarrassing than telling them we were in a fake relationship, so I really think we need to count our blessings_ _J_

_Jay_   
  


 

_~_   
  
  


 

2016

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
 **Subject:** Thanks  
 **Date:** May 4, 2016 03:23:12 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

Hey, Jared.

Got your package today. Sending delicious German candy to a nine-year-old kid? Some might call that bribing.

Attaching a photo with her covered in chocolate. Sky insisted saying thank you.

I am still debating whether to say thanks myself, since I had to deal with her on a sugar high.

Jensen

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
 **Subject:** RE: Thanks  
 **Date:** May 6, 2016 8:04:34 AM PDT  
 **To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

So glad she liked it! Well, I can’t lie – I asked Danneel what she usually liked, and tried to get something similar. It was an informed bribe.

I know she’s coming on the next trip, I had to make a good impression. You’ve badmouthed me enough to her. J

Ah, sweet revenge.

Jared

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
 **Subject:** RE: Thanks  
 **Date:** May 6, 2016 12:13:00 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

Don’t ruin it. I’ve just started to like you.

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
 **Subject:** Meeting details  
 **Date:** May 6, 2016 12:17:20 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

Bullshit, Jensen. You liked me from the start.

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
 **Subject:** RE: Thanks  
 **Date:** May 6, 2016 12:35:30 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

Keep telling yourself that.

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
 **Subject:** Meeting details  
 **Date:** May 6, 2016 12:45:12 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

It’s the truth, Ackles, and it’ll come a day when you’ll admit it.

Oh, and Misha asked me to tell you: send him details to make arrangements for her, too, next few tournaments.

I’m excited to meet Sky. Should I be nervous?

Jared

 

 **From:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>  
 **Subject:** RE: Thanks  
 **Date:** May 6, 2016 12:50:44 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jared Padalecki <[jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com](mailto:jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com)>

No, man. She’s hopping around, telling my dad all about how she’s going to meet you. It’s kind of sweet, actually.

But she’s sort of shy until you get to know her.

Thanks for this. I know it’s not the norm.

Jensen

 

 **From:** Jared Padalecki <jaredt.padalecki@inspireTENorg.com>  
 **Subject:** RE: Thanks  
 **Date:** May 6, 2016 12:56:46 PM PDT  
 **To:** Jensen Ackles < [jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com](mailto:jensen.acklesphotography@photonet.com)>

It will haunt you forever, now that you put it in writing, you know, right?

I’m looking forward to it, Jensen.

Jared


	8. Part Six

_NEW YORK, DECEMBER 2015_

_ACES HEADQUARTERS_   
  


**_Danneel Harris_ ** _: All right. Since this is my first official interview, I think I need to ask the question that has been on my mind from the start._

**_Jared Padalecki:_ ** _I think I know what that is._

**_D.H.:_ ** _I want to ask what determined you to start this project now. What led to this book? You’ve explained to me the importance of it. The whys. But now, I would love to know about the hows._

**_J.P.:_ ** _Well, I did not guess that…and the answer to that question is a longer story._

**_D.H.:_ ** _That’s why we’re here._

**_J.P.:_ ** _Right. Okay. Well, the book, the foundation…they weren’t projects that I even dreamed of when I started. When I started in the circuit – I don’t want to say it was inertia, or fate, or anything that leaves it to chance, because it was conscious decisions that brought me to the point of choosing tennis as my career. But it was something that I didn’t think about too much. I played tennis when I was younger, I was decent at it, and each time I won, it created new expectations. I dared dream bigger, and bigger meant reaching higher, to better-ranked tournaments, to further phases of them. So, you know, when your path is drawn for you, and it stretches so clearly in front of you…you kind of don’t even think about it, at least not too much. You do the thing at hand._

**_D.H.:_ ** _I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming._

**_J.P.:_ ** _You’re right, there is. I got to the point where I wasn’t content with what I did anymore. Or, rather, with the meaning of it. I’d gotten better. I’d won. I didn’t have to prove anything, not where tennis was concerned. So, what now? I had money, more than I could ever spend, a good life, comfort. But at some point, that wasn’t enough anymore. I have no clue how to explain it, other than the fact that I wanted to do something more. I wanted to give back, share my luck, share everything that I know and hope that helps somebody._

**_D.H.:_ ** _Why?_

**_J.P.:_ ** _I don’t understand._

**_D.H.:_ ** _I am asking why, because through the years, I’ve heard that a lot of times. And I think the answer is always interesting. Are you doing it because that’s what you’re supposed to do? To fix your image? Or is that truly what you want?_

**_J.P.:_ ** _Well, you’re definitely not going easy on me._

**_D.H.:_ ** _Do you want me to?_

**_J.P.:_ ** _No. It’s easier, actually, than tiptoeing around the subject. I want to do this. I think…well, it’s going to sound as much as a line as what I said before, but I truly believe we each have something special. A talent, a skill, a whole lot of them that make us the perfect candidates to help each other. We’re different. I am a tennis player, I’m a millionaire, I’m a celebrity – and yet, I’m a guy who grew up in a family that was normal, with its problems, with its bad moments, with people that know me as nothing else than Jared, the guy who kicked tennis balls to the wall, the angry kid who was trying to figure it all out. So I think I can help. I think each and every one of the challenges I came across taught me something valuable that I can share._

**_D.H.:_ ** _Is your sexual orientation and iffy relationship with the press one of those challenges?_

**_J.P.:_ ** _See, that’s what I thought you would ask first. It is, in a manner of speaking. Of course, it’s more complicated than this, but it boils down to thinking there’s just one way to be to be successful. The press – I didn’t want to deal with it. I lied to myself for years thinking that I didn’t care about what they wrote about me, what they thought about me – but truth is, I felt different. I was scared of being different, of breaking out the pattern. I didn’t know what would happen._

**_D.H.:_ ** _You haven’t come out publicly, though. Are you still afraid?_

**_J.P.:_ ** _No. I’ve said it clear enough for those who wanted to hear. I’ve shown it through my actions. Why throw a parade?_

**_D.H.:_ ** _Maybe it would inspire those who identify with you to stand up for themselves._

**_J.P.:_ ** _That would be great. But you don’t need a parade for that. You have to trust yourself, and trust that everything will fall into place. That the people who you most need will be the ones that knew all along, and they’ll be sticking with you no matter what. I know it’s not that simple, and there’s plenty of obstacles, and mine was a happier story than most. But that’s what I can do. That’s what I understand by being true to myself, as hard as it can be sometimes._

**_D.H.:_ ** _So, you seem to have ‘figured it all out’._

**_J.P.:_ ** _Far from it. And where would be the beauty in that? I’m learning. I’m trying._

**_D.H.:_ ** _You said that you’ve accomplished your career goals, as far as playing tennis goes. Why still play, then?_

**_J.P:_ ** _Because I still like it. Because I still can, and because I want to put in practice what I’m preaching. It’s a matter of redefining yourself, a matter of fighting for who you want to be._   
  


_~_   
  
  


LONDON, WIMBLEDON, JULY 2016

A lot of things have changed since the beginning of the year. Some were hard, conscious choices that required constant recommitment. And some were spontaneous, not noticed until after they’d become established.

The friendship built between Jensen and Danneel and Padalecki’s team – that falls into the second category.

“She’s a brave girl,” Jeff says, smiling affectionately.

Jensen nods, stares at his little girl sleeping peacefully in the seat next to him. “Yeah. For her first flight, it’s pretty good, right?”

“You kidding?” Jeff laughs. “Eleven hour flights make Chad cry.”

Jensen chuckles. It’s just them on this flight, him, Jeff, and Sky – Danneel was tied up with some last minute thing at _Aces_ , and Jared and Chad – well, Jensen doesn’t really know why they aren’t here.

He had heroically refrained from asking Jeff about Jared, because, well, Jensen still clings to the pretense of privacy. Jensen had made the mistake of mentioning to Danneel one time – _one goddamn time_ – that Jared didn’t seem to be such a bad guy after all, and since then, it’s been all waggling eyebrows and meaningful glances from Danneel behind Jared’s back.

But then Jensen has an irrational thought that Jared changed his mind about Sky coming along because - why else would the travel formula of everyone flying together be different this trip?

“We’re meeting them there?” Jensen asks in what he hopes is a neutral tone.

“Yeah, yeah, they made a visit to Jared’s parents yesterday, took a flight last night.”

“I didn’t know Jared’s parents – well, I don’t know anything about them, really.”

Jeff purses his lips. “Yeah, they’re not – well, it’s more complicated.”

It’s the same attitude Jared has when he talks about them, one Jensen doesn’t quite understand. But Jeff, in an unusual talkative mood, continues. “He hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?” Jensen says, frowning.

“About his parents – I thought –“

Yeah. Jensen can guess what Jeff had been thinking. He and Jared had gotten closer these last couple months, but still, it was a long way from that kind of talk.

Jeff seems to get it. “Well, it’s not some big story,” he shrugs. “The kind a lot of people have. Dad an alcoholic, mom frustrated and angry, and, well, his home life was something to get distance from.”

The way Jeff puts it, so bluntly, so dispassionately… Jensen has some trouble figuring out the right response to it. It’s Jeff’s usual way of ‘taking the hits as they come’, but still, Jensen’s at a loss.

“I – Jared doesn’t talk about it. And I didn’t ask,” he says, finally.

Jeff smiles wryly, nods. “I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you were the kind of guy to ask.”

Jensen nods.

The team around Jared is very protective of him – Jensen finally understands Chad’s hostile attitude towards Jensen at the hotel in Sydney. While Jeff might be less impulsive, the love and loyalty he has for Jared is more than obvious.

“It’s – not weird, I mean, I can imagine it, but – I don’t know,” Jensen says, feeling like he can say this, like Jeff will know what he means. “Jared’s so – “

And he does, instantly. Jeff laughs, quiet and rough. “Yeah,” he says in that scratchy low tone. “I know.”

Jensen can’t find the right words, just questions.

How? How can Jared not be angry? How can Jared be…kind, passionate, strong, driven, and a million other things Jensen’s just starting to discover?

“He wasn’t always like this,” Jeff says, almost like he’s reading Jensen’s mind. “When I met him, he was just a frustrated kid that took his problems out on the court. That’s how he played tennis. That’s _why_ he played. It kept him afloat. It was this one thing he could control.”

“What changed?” Jensen asks, because he’s genuinely curious.

Jeff furrows his brows, leans just a bit forward. “I don’t know if that’s the right thing to ask.”

He stops, searches for the right words. “I think Jared was always like this – open, ready to take on the world by storm. He just took a long time to realize it. And to realize that, in fact, trying to have an iron grip on everything does more harm than good.”

Jensen smiles. “At least he did figure it out.”

“Yeah, well, took running into the proverbial wall till I got him to listen to me,” Jeff replies, smiling himself. “You don’t quite get it, till there comes a moment when you realize you can’t – or _want_ to live like that anymore.”

Jensen understands that all too well.

Maybe that’s why these trips have become an anchor, a place where he gets the feeling anything’s possible – because Jared believes. Jared’s the guy who doesn’t care what’s in front of him. He perseveres, he endures, he barges forward until he gets to the other side of it.

Jensen might not know the exact circumstances, there are still pieces of the puzzles missing, but he doesn’t need to. It’s about learning there’s something different, a different way to do it, and it’s as hard and as easy as being willing to change your perspective.

Since Sky, Jensen had craved certainty, and yet, he’s surprised to find that it’s exactly the lack of it that thrills him now, the joy of the present moment being whatever he wants to make of it. Jared had been a riddle from the start, a convenient target living free in a way Jensen believed he’d lost.

Free, feeling like the world is at his fingertips.

Bitch of it is, Jensen realized, everyone is. Freedom isn’t what the outside world builds – it’s escaping your own flaws and demons. It’s in his power to change it. No one else’s.

“Daddy?” a little voice mumbles, interrupting his thoughts. “Are we there yet?”

Jensen grins, reaches to smooth over Sky’s sleep-disheveled hair. “Not yet, sweetie.”

“I’m tired of sitting here, Daddy.”

“Still some hours to go, kid,” Jeff intervenes, amusement clear in his voice. “But I got an idea. Learned a word game a while ago. Want to play?”

Jeff might possibly be the child whisperer, because Sky’s eyes go wide, gleaming with excitement. All Jensen had to offer was one of the five books they brought along.

“What are the rules?” Sky asks, now seemingly more awake than ever, leaning over Jensen to see Jeff better.

Jensen sighs. Jeff underestimates how competitive his little girl is.

“Okay, so, you begin by saying the alphabet in your head,” Jeff starts explaining. “And then I say stop…Stop.”

“G! I got to G!” Sky exclaims, a little too loudly.

Jeff smiles, throws a complicit look at Jensen. “Good. Now I have to say a word that starts with the letter G.”

“Guitar!”

Jensen interrupts. “Sky –“

“This time, I’m the one that says it. Next time, it’s you,” Jeff appeases. “I’m saying … glad. Glad’s my word.”

Sky nods enthusiastically. “And now? What do I do?”

“You have to say a word that has the last two letters.”

Sky’s nose crinkles, her eyes narrow – and Jensen can’t help but chuckle at the sight, because in less than two minutes, Jeff has managed to skip past shy Sky and fast-forward to the part where she can’t stop talking.

“That’s A, and D. Daddy has A and D,” Sky says, smiling at Jensen.

Jeff laughs. “Little charmer you got there, Ackles.”

Jensen grins.

“Adding! Adding starts with A and D.”

“See, now you’ve beat me!” Jeff proclaims, sighing in mock exasperation. “I can’t make any other words with N and G.”

The light bulb goes on, and Sky smiles mischievously. “Again!”

“Sky, maybe no more words ending in N and G?” Jensen tries, fully aware of the wheels turning in his daughter’s head.

She turns to look at Jensen for a few moments, then sighs exaggeratedly. “Okaaay,” she complies. “But my turn now!”

Jeff promptly starts at “A”, makes a big show of running through the alphabet.

Jensen mouths a silent thank you when he catches Jeff’s gaze.

He’d been worried about the way Sky would fit into the group of adults, if he was making a mistake by bringing his nine year old kid to this environment. Jensen needn’t have worried; apparently, all the members of Jared’s team, under the tough exteriors, are comprised of little kids in disguise.

He listens to the back and forth for the next few minutes, lets Jeff’s and Sky’s voices wash over him.

It’s really strange, how easy it all seems right now.

Even stranger is Jensen’s complete comfort in not questioning any of it.  
  


~  
  


The weather in London is actually pleasant.

Contrary to all the warnings, rain doesn’t ruin any of Jensen and Sky’s plans. It’s not exceedingly sunny, but it’s perfect weather for taking a stroll through the city, searching out the best places to see and holding his daughter’s hand.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we go to museums back home?”

Right. That’s what Jensen gets for taking his daughter to the British Museum.

“Did you like it that much?” Jensen asks.

She purses her lips. Dressed in a pair of jeans, and a light blue jacket, but with a big flowery headband on her head, keeping her tousled hair back, she’s no less adorable than when she’s in her princess pajamas, asking Jensen to read her a bedtime story.

“No,” she concludes after a few moments of thinking, “but you did.”

Oh.

Jensen clears his throat. “Well, that’s – we’ll go from now on. How about that? Deal?”

She nods, beaming up at him.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah,” Jensen replies dutifully.

“Can we go get jelly beans?”

Jensen sighs. Sky has a challenging attention span.

“Yes, sweetie. We can. But we have to get back to the house, Jared’s competition is at five o’clock.”

“Do I have to be there?” she whines.

Sky doesn’t have the patience for watching tennis. She says it’s not interesting enough – not like basketball or – be still his heart – football.

“ _I_ have to be there, Sky” Jensen answers. “Besides, it’s only a few hours.”

He’s aware that two hours in adult time is not the same as two hours in a kid’s.

“But –“

“No buts, Sky, we discussed this at home. Daddy has to go to the matches to take photos. It’s just for a bit, then we’ll do something else together. Seems like a fair deal, isn’t it?”

Yeah, they’ve discussed everything at home, from the big picture to the details. But Skylar is still a kid. This is a bit difficult to adjust to, but to Jensen it’s so much better than waking up in the middle of the night to call her because of the time difference.

Sky nods a little gloomily, but holds his hand without making more fuss about it.

Jensen smiles, proud of himself, except a few steps later, he realizes how tightly wrapped around her finger his daughter has him.  
  
  


~  
  
  


Turns out, Sky does not hate tennis. Or, well, she does, but not when it’s watched from first row seats near the court, and Jared winks at her when he enters.

Jensen’s a bit surprised at Jared’s behavior with Sky – a little bit awkward, in a way that Jared rarely is, a bit unsure, but genuine and enthusiastic. When the two met, Sky decided that reverting to the habit of hiding behind Jensen’s leg was a good option, even though she was too tall now. But Jared took it in stride, crouched down and smiled at her, introducing himself and charming a new fan for life.

That’s the way Jared worked. He should have come with a warning for impending capitulation when anyone looks in his eyes for too long.

Jensen adjusts his camera, taking a few test pictures during the warm up, but feeling relaxed. It is, after all, just one of the first rounds of the tournament, as big as Wimbledon is, and everyone is pretty comfortable about Jared winning this match.

He glances at Sky from time to time, and Jensen’s surprised to find her fascinated by the game, cheering Jared with Danneel, waving her little arms and clapping loudly.

Seeing his daughter so happy, even momentarily, makes a warm feeling bloom in his chest. And when Jared wins, and keeps one of the balls he played with to give to an excited Sky – Jensen can’t deny that that feeling extends to Jared, too.  
  


~  
  
  


Unlike the living arrangements at previous tournaments, here in London Jared’s team rents a big house, which means they’re left to their own devices most of the time, which is better and worse than staying in a hotel.

The conditions are better, in the sense there’s a coziness that seeps in through the morning talks during coffee with Danneel and Jeff through the afternoons spent playing video games with Chad. It’s more intense in the evenings, when hearty dinners extend to ungodly hours, and even though Jensen puts Sky to bed early, he’s still always shushing everyone not to wake her up, which, not fun. For anyone.

But, other than that, he’s really enjoying this, the comfort he finds in this unique group of people.

Right now it’s only Jensen, Jared, and Genevieve left at the table.

Jensen takes an embarrassingly long time to realize who Genevieve is, exactly – the woman who pretended to be Jared’s girlfriend for three years.

He’d expected her to be…different. Certainly not as nice as she is towards Jensen and Sky.

“So, what do you think, Jensen? Is Jay a coward or not?” Genevieve asks, winking at him.

She’s in no way Jared’s girlfriend now. More like an older sister who teases him mercilessly.

“Oh, come on, Gen, just because I don’t like heights –“

“You have to realize that’s a little ironic, right?” Jensen asks, playing along.

Jared, tired of being made fun of the whole evening, decides to take the path of war, throws a pretzel at him.

Jensen dodges it easily, smiles triumphantly when he regains his position. In return, Jared mutters something under his breath that Jensen can’t quite catch.

Genevieve giggles. “You met your match, Padalecki,” she says.

Jensen doesn’t know if she’s aware of the meaning that could have, but there’s a sudden rush of adrenaline, whole body flushing with heat.

Did she notice how Jensen’s been looking at Jared?

Jensen doesn’t want to admit, not even to himself, the attraction he feels to Jared. That poses a problem bigger than he wants to deal with.

“No, there isn’t anyone who makes fun of me as well as you do, Gen” Jared says playfully, taking any awkwardness out of the moment.

He rises up, bends over to press a kiss on Genevieve’s head. “That said, I’m going to sleep. Jeff is going to kill me if I don’t get eight hours before the match tomorrow,” he says, turning towards Jensen, whose words come up before he can stop them.

“What, no kiss for me?”

Jared moves lightning fast, presses his lips to Jensen’s cheek in a ninja kiss, and Jensen freezes,  then stares dumbly at Jared’s retreating back, bringing his fingers to touch the spot where Jared’s lips touched his skin.

When he lands back on Earth, Genevieve is chuckling, staring at him amusedly.

“Um –“ Jensen starts, completely unable to figure out how to continue.

“You okay there?” Genevieve mocks. “Need a glass of water or something?”

“No, no, I’m just – I was surprised.”

Genevieve arches an eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

“What do you mean?”

Genevieve fixes Jensen with her gaze.

“Well, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice how he looks at you,” she says, and it’s the first time Jensen notices an edge in her voice.

“I –“

“Relax, Jensen, I’m not going to do the ‘you better not hurt my best friend’ speech. I think it would be pointless, and frankly, even if I didn’t, I don’t think I have the moral authority for it.”

Jensen stares at her with wide eyes. He honestly doesn’t know how to answer that.

“I’m just going to say this – Jared’s a good guy.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Genevieve asks, and she seems genuinely curious to know the answer.

“I think that from what I’ve seen, he seems to be a really decent guy,” Jensen finally ends up saying.

“But?”

He didn’t think she’d hear his reservation.

“But I don’t get how the same person I got to know this year could have pretended to have a girlfriend –multiple girlfriends – and blatantly deny the rumors for years.” And that, honestly, is the part of the Jared equation that Jensen really wants the answer to.

“That’s because it’s not the same guy,” Genevieve reaches forward, hands on the table, locking gazes with Jensen. “This? The man you met? He’s not the little boy he was, scared of who he was.”

Jensen furrows his brows.

“The guy you know right now is comfortable in his own skin. He knows who he is. And, more importantly, he doesn’t care who anyone else thinks he is.”

“That’s a nice answer,” Jensen says, unconvinced. “But it’s just a bit too easy.”

“Really? It’s that easy to look in the mirror, and say, _yeah_ , _I’m good. I’m good just as I am, who cares what other people think?_ ” She shakes her head. “I’d have less than half the number of patients I have right now if it was.”

Jensen leans back on his chair.

Actually thinking about it…and making the juxtaposition with everything Jensen’s come to know Jared to be – maybe he has more in common with Jared than he thought.

Genevieve smiles. “See? You’re getting it.”

Jensen arches an eyebrow.

”Now what you really want to know,” She actually puts up a finger, starts counting. “One, Jared doesn’t do well with change. When we went our separate ways, and I decided to move here, to London, that prompted a no-speaking period of about four months.”

She raises her ring finger. “Two, he doesn’t fall in love very often. So, you know, if you’re on the lucky side of that particular kind of attention, you might want to be careful how you handle it. If it’s anything that can bring Jared down, it’s when issues come about with the people he cares about. And that’s great, and it’s nice that he’s a decent human being like that, but it’s also a responsibility you take on when you make a choice to be in his life.”

Jensen watches her attentively while she speaks.

“You sure this is not about you?” he dares to go on a limb and ask.

“What?” Genevieve frowns. “No.” She laughs, continuing, “That’s cute, and I appreciate the concern, but I was talking about another guy. You might have noticed, Jared has a preference for that way.”

“Supposedly those were just rumors,” Jensen challenges.

”Jared couldn’t…well, it would have pretty much ruined his career at the time.”

Jensen studies her for a few seconds.

“It’s another player,” Jensen declares when it dawns on him, and Genevieve nods.

“Welling.”

Jensen doesn’t know whether to collect his jaw from the floor or laugh. Welling was Jared’s fiercest rival.

“They had some sort of agreement. I don’t know. But it messed with him, and his game –“

“That final he lost in 2008,” Jensen replies, suddenly remembering something. “It was the first time Jared didn’t shake someone’s hand at the end of the match.”

She grins. “You were watching him.”

“Everybody watched them,” Jensen says, looking for an excuse.

It was true. It was a great competition, one that held the headlines for weeks on end.

“Yeah, well,” Genevieve continues, “after that was when Jared essentially broke down. He...didn’t trust himself. He didn’t know what to do, what he wanted anymore, if the sacrifices he was making were worth it.”

Jensen would have never believed that a few months ago. But now, having seen glimpses beneath Jared’s façade, he realizes just how much he still needs to learn.

“Look, the point to this, is – everybody’s got a story, right? Life deals you a hand, and it’s what you do with it. Jared made a change. He chose to quit being something for other people, and began striving to be something he wanted for himself. He’s not perfect. He has flaws, and if you really want to find a reason not to give it a try, you will. ”

Jensen looks at Genevieve, watches how her beautiful features sharpen with intensity as she is talking about the man who used her as a front for over three years – and remains her close friend.

She cares about Jared, that much is obvious. Her tone is firm, but gentle. She’s not trying to convince Jensen. She’s just explaining things to him, the way she sees them. And Jensen believes her, believes that Jared made mistakes, but he shouldn’t be defined by those choices.

Jensen understands wanting, _needing_ to be someone else, building yourself up solely on how others see you. He used to think about all the good things his mother said to him about being a father, the praise, the proud smiles. Jensen gathered them, etched them into his mind, kept them locked safely, and brought them up to remind himself every night when he couldn’t sleep.

Jensen needed that. He was so fucking scared of messing up, he anchored himself in the only real assurance he could count on.

And maybe Jared had needed to be normal, too. Maybe he was too scared not to fit in – being yourself is hard, frightening, and exhausting, especially when you don’t like yourself.

Jensen thinks that he could learn from Jared how to find that peace inside himself.

“I think –“ Jensen starts, tone a bit uneven. “I – I have a lot of shit to figure out.” Jensen continues, shaking his head. “I think I’ve managed to convince myself in the last few years that life’s fucked up, that it’s a never ending string of stuff to be handled –“

“And you wear it like a badge of honor,” Genevieve finishes for him.

“In a way…yeah, maybe. Thought it was like this for everyone, and I thought I was doing okay, considering.”

“High standards. Kind of like someone else we have in common.”

Jensen laughs. “Yeah. Well, I’m starting to understand I can do it differently.”

“Good,” Genevieve says. “Then take a step forward, and be open to new things.”

Jensen arches an eyebrow. “I love how you turned the conversation right around.”

“Well, I have to protect my boy,” Genevieve says in an exaggerated voice, and Jensen laughs.

If he thought Chad had no filter, well…Genevieve is one step beyond Chad.

He ends up with a smile on his face when he goes to sleep at 3 AM.

Or, well, the smile could be from the butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about what Genevieve said about Jared liking him.  
  
  


~  
  
  


“But this is the last match, right, Daddy?”

Jensen nods, tightens his grip on Sky’s hand, tries to protect her from the flurry of people heading towards the arena.

“Yep, it’s the final,” he adds, “if Jared wins this, he’s the best.”

“But he won a lot of matches, why isn’t he already the best?”

“Because there’s someone who won just as many matches as Jared, sweetie. That’s who Jared is playing today.”

Sky frowns. “Does he get a cup?”

“A cup?” Jensen asks, a little thrown.

“A prize,” Sky explains patiently.

“Oh, a trophy! Yeah, he does. He gets one like in the pictures Genevieve showed us last night,” Jensen replies, referring to the pictures online she’d showed them.

“Okay,” Sky says, and that’s that, that’s the end of conversation for now.

He shrugs, tries to make his way to the assigned seating in the VIP lounge. He’ll be leaving Sky with Danni while he photographs what is either going to be Jared’s stunning comeback or his crushing defeat. Jared’s team is on the wire over this match. Jared’s fought for every point in this tournament, including a difficult semifinal that extended to almost four-and-a-half hours, when normally a match is two, at most, three hours. He’d had a day free, and Chad had done everything in his power to get him in shape for this final match, but it’s not like he had a magic wand, so right now, Jared is pretty much glued together by sheer will.

Pushing through the crowd with Sky is insane, and when Jensen finally spots Danni, he breathes a huge sigh of relief.

“Jesus Christ, it’s crazy out there.”

Danneel nods and pulls Sky in a hug. “I know. But it’s the return-to-grace of the great Padalecki, so, what did you expect?”

“Is he okay?” Jensen asks Danneel while helping Sky out of her jacket – she’s preoccupied by the images on the big screen of the arena, where people from the crowd wave at the camera.

“Jared’s okay,” she shrugs. “Tired. Chad tried his best, but…”

“Did Jared say anything?” Jensen asks.

The thing is – they haven’t spent much time together in London. Jensen had taken advantage of having Sky with him, and tried to do as many things as he could, explore the richness of the culture with his daughter. So his interactions with Jared had been limited to the evening meals, and Jared hadn’t even been there for all of them. Jensen missed Jared. He missed his laugh.

“Nope,” Danni replies, arching an eyebrow. “Why?”

Jensen shrugs. “No reason.”

Jensen congratulates himself on the exquisite subtlety.

But he’s saved from any further explaining when he sees Jeff making his way towards his seat, which means the players are ready to go out, and Jensen must take his place, too.

Jensen tries to squash the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, the anxiousness of anticipation for the match. He’s not sure he can handle watching Jared lose.

He has no idea when he started caring this much.  
  


~  
  
  


Two hours later, and Jensen sees signs of Jared getting weak.

His movements are getting sluggish, the force that he usually puts in his shots is fading. It’s not a question of his mind – he’s focused, concentrated on each point, but Jared’s body is giving up.

The job Jensen signed up for is to collect a series of images that showcase a year in Jared Padalecki’s life, a visual storyboard to complement Danneel’s words. When he began, he thought it would be easy. Jensen had an abstract idea of what it would mean, had the big picture in mind.

But Jensen never though he would get to this point, where watching Jared would bring up so many mixed emotions, and it would cause so much turmoil in his heart. Jensen’s turned from the impartial observer to Padalecki’s fan, living each missed shot and each winner.

Jared, despite the fact that he’s starting to struggle, is still ahead. His opponent, though, has made some brilliant shots and the match could still go either way.

Jensen finally sees what Jared meant in their conversations. Seeing the perseverance, the stubbornness to hang on, even if it’s just by a thread – you can’t do that if you don’t believe. The hard work Jared does every day is only a part of becoming a champion. It’s his determination, his belief in his abilities that paves the road to be a legend of the sport, someone that can inspire, that can teach everyone something.

Yeah, Jensen might have scoffed at the idea of the book when he first heard it. What can anyone learn from Jared Padalecki?

Jensen realizes he learned a lot.  
  


~  
  
  


It’s strange, watching Jared lift the trophy.

Staggering, arms visibly shaking when he holds the cup above his head, but every bit the invincible tennis player that he was in previous years.

Jensen’s own fingers tremble when he presses the shutter on the camera. He tries to concentrate, to be mindful of the moment, and the need to have it immortalized. But he can’t, not fully, because Jensen ceased living the moment through the lens.

Watching Jared smile proudly makes him respond in kind, and it makes him excited, and nervous, and euphoric, and scared, all at the same time.  
  


~  
  
  


“Come on, Sky, we need to tell congratulations to Jared.”

Sky beams, vibrates with enthusiasm and energy. The quiet kid is no more, not when Skylar finds something she’s passionate about. And maybe she will never love tennis in itself as a sport, but she has certainly taken a liking to Jared.

It may be the novelty of having a personal relationship to someone she’s only seen on TV, or the excitement of new things, but whichever the reason, as soon as Jared leaves the press conference to rejoin their group, Sky sprints toward him.

The player has quick reflexes; he crouches down in the time it takes Sky to cross the few feet, welcomes her hug fully, even though the force of it rocks him back a bit.

She doesn’t say anything – but Jared’s smile is blinding, even wider than when he held the trophy in his hands.

“Thank you, Sky,” he says, voice rough.

Jeff had remained at Jared’s side for the after-match interviews, and they both look tired, but, more than anything else, happy. Jeff watches Jared and Sky, making eye contact with Danneel over their heads. Jensen doesn’t know how to interpret the exchange of glances, but truth is, he doesn’t really care.

He contents himself with putting a protective hand around Sky’s shoulders when she returns, finally realizes she’s in a room full of people she doesn’t really know, and proceeds to hide her face in Jensen’s arm.

Jensen smiles at the display, standing back and waiting his turn in the queue for congratulating Jared.

Gen and Chad engulf him in lengthy hugs, patting him on the back in a familiar gesture that says more than any words can. Misha is relatively reserved, though there’s clear affection in the way they shake hands. Danni presses a quick kiss on Jared’s cheek.

Finally, it’s Jensen’s turn. He takes a few steps forward, and he tries to ignore the ringing in his ears, the knot in his stomach when he sees the look in Jared’s eyes.

It’s a moment that can make a difference.

And he does, he steps forward, and, even though his knees feel weak, despite his hands trembling when he cups Jared’s jaw – Jensen says yes to this, to the moment, and kisses Jared, a little rougher than intended, but hoping to convey everything he couldn’t say.

As if he were expecting it, Jared melts into the kiss, pressing his body closer to Jensen’s, hands coming to where Jensen’s t-shirt lifts up, sending shivers up Jensen’s spine with the touch.

They part after what seems like an eternity, even though it must be just a few seconds. Reality scratches at the walls, begging to be let in, but right now, Jensen just grins, laughs when the others cheer and whistle, taking the moment from romantic to ridiculous.

Jensen reaches back for Sky, and the of consequences of his impulsive action –

Sky’s smiling. She’s a little confused, maybe, but smiling, and hugs both of their legs.

Jensen reaches down to her, wants to look in those blue-green eyes, reassure himself that it’s okay, that Sky is okay with this.

Jensen has a lot to explain, but, at the moment, she’s smiling because her father is smiling, too, and they’re okay, and that’s all that matters, because the rest?

The rest Jensen knows he can deal with.

Jared puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. But when he speaks, he looks straight at Sky.

“Sky?”

Jensen’s daughter unglues her eyes from his father’s, looks up.

“Yeah?” she replies in a small voice.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jared’s voice is cracking around the edges, and Jensen’s immediately on alert – what does Jared want to ask? It’s too early, it’s –

“Okay,” he continues when Sky nods, “well, there’s going to be a party tomorrow, to celebrate. Do you want to – um, do you want to be my date? You and your father, I mean – “

Sky lights up, nods vigorously, curly hair falling out of place. She grabs at Jensen’s hand.

“Daddy, Daddy! There’s a party! Can I wear the dress from Aunt Danni? Can I, Daddy? Please!”

Jared’s shaky laugh shatters the tension to pieces and everyone is laughing out the emotions of the last week.

Life’s as simple as Sky made it.


	9. Part Seven

**TORONTO, CANADA, JULY 2016**

Jensen’s favorite thing to do in New York is taking walks in Central Park. It’s been the best place for spending time even before Sky was born, when he’d just sit, enjoy performances from street dancers and musicians, lost the way they sang and moved, fluid and ethereal.

Since Sky could walk, Saturday was the day they spent in the park – with their dog, throwing a ball around, having a picnic. It was the day nothing else mattered, but spending time together.

Today is Saturday, and even though they aren’t in New York, the tradition holds. Only, now there’s an addition: Jared, who has joined wholeheartedly.

Sky insists they hold her hand, swinging her as they walk even though she’s a little too big now, but Jared’s a softie who quickly obeys.

He still has awkward moments around Sky, not knowing exactly what to say to a little girl. But he loves her, of that there is no question, and it is just a matter of time.

Jensen has a hard time finding the right words to explain this new relationship to Sky when he’s still figuring it out himself. His mother helped. Sky had questions, and Jensen answered each of them honestly.

Is she going to have two dads, like Andrew from her class?

Not right now. It’s too early for that because Jensen and Jared are still getting to know each other.

Is Jensen going to be gone more from now on?

No, he’s done travelling with Jared, though he might go on trips with him once in a while. But he’ll always put Sky first, regardless of anything that happens.

Will Daddy always kiss Jared like that?

Jensen kind of loses any ability to speak at that, opening his mouth like a fish, no sound coming out. He’s just lucky that his mom never seems to be deterred by any turn in conversation, and she smooths over the whole thing, explaining to Sky the innocent part of the bird and bees speech – _when two people like each other, Sky sweetie…_

Jensen smiles at the memory. Looking at his daughter now, he wouldn’t think she was even the littlest bit apprehensive.

“Jay?”

Also, Sky gained nickname privileges with Jared.

“Yeah?”

“What countries have you been to? Daddy says you’ve been all over the world,” Sky says, brows furrowed, truly interested in the response.

“Well,” Jared starts, thoughtful look on his face while he swings his hand back and forth, even though Sky stopped lifting her feet off the ground. “Not quite all over the world, but…I’ve seen parts of Italy, Brazil, China, Spain, France –“

Sky looks at Jared with wide eyes. “You’ve been to France?”

Jared nods, as confused as Jensen is at the way Sky hung on to that detail.

“What’s in France, Sky?” Jensen asks, barely keeping the smile out of his voice.

Sky rushes to explain. “Linnea, daddy! Remember the book I read?”

Oh, yeah. Her favorite book from Grandpa.

“You like books, Sky?” Jared asks earnestly and Jensen can’t contain his laugh at her fervent nod.

“I like books, too,” Jared says, smiling back. “In fact, back in New York, at my house, I have a room that’s only filled with books and records, and comfy chairs.”

Sky’s eyes become comically large. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. I like to sit and read there when I have free time, listen to music…that’s how I relax.”

Well, that’s new to Jensen. But seems to fit Jared.

“Me too! But daddy says I shouldn’t read so much,” Sky pouts.

“That’s not what I said. I just told you it’s not good for your eyes to read under the covers with a flashlight.”

Jared lifts his gaze up from Sky, offers Jensen a smile that makes Jensen’s heartbeat quicken.

“I think your dad is right, Sky. You shouldn’t read in the dark,” he dutifully supports Jensen. “My room has windows from the ceiling all the way to the floor, just so I can read in good light.”

Sky turns to look at Jensen hopefully. “We can’t do that home, sweetie,” Jensen shakes his head.

“But –“

“But you can visit when we’re back home – I have books you might like, and I bet you’ll find a favorite chair.”

“Do you have Harry Potter?”

Jared pretends to be affronted. “Of course I have Harry Potter. I read it about a dozen times!”

Jensen has a feeling he will have to get comfortable with the role of bad cop.

“Sky, we talked about this. You’re not allowed to read it until you’re a bit older.”

“But Daddy –“ They’ve had this discussion a dozen times before.

Luckily, there’s a distraction straight ahead. Jensen points to _The Amazing_ _Maze_ and Sky quickly switches from pouting to jumping forward, pulling at Jared and Jensen’s hands and giggling.

“Can we go, Daddy? Can we?”

She’s looking up at Jensen hopefully. Jensen turns to Jared in a silent question.

“I don’t know, could be pretty interesting,” Jared says, grinning.

“Well, if nothing else, we can have your fans show us out,” Jensen teases, gesturing to the small group that has identified Jared at the entrance to the park. Jared had amiably posed for a couple pictures, and the fans had stepped back but are following at a respectful distance. It’s still strange, dating someone who can’t go out on the street without being recognized.

“Just make sure you have enough battery on your cell phone in case we get lost,” Jared replies.

“We won’t get lost,” Sky sighs loudly, exasperated at the delay. “Come on!”

Both Jared and Jensen burst out laughing, exchanging accomplice glances.

They follow Sky dutifully.

And as he’s making his way through the maze with his daughter and the man he’s fallen for, Jensen realizes he’s happy.


	10. Epilogue

_EXERCPT - PADALECKI: MIND OF A CHAMPION by DANNEEL HARRIS-MORGAN, SEPTEMBER 2017_

_PREFACE_

_If you’ve ever had the opportunity to put your hands on of one of my books or articles, dear reader, you already know me. You understand that I am, above all, someone that looks for truth, and not only one truth. Those many, many truths in our lives – the good, the ugly, the hopeless, and the brave._

_This book isn’t any different._

_Before embarking on a year-long journey that would help me get to know Jared Padalecki, the star of this volume, I had mixed feelings._

_I was curious. I was skeptical. I was frustrated that I had to leave my wonderful NY corner office to travel to God knows where, with people I don’t even like._

_But you get an opportunity, and you take it. That’s who I am. You figure out the rest later._

_So I did. I took the assignment, and, because I’m a sadistic kind of girl, I cajoled my good friend, Jensen Ackles, photographer by day, Padalecki-averse human being in general, into coming along._

_In my defense, I needed someone I could trust. And, because I know he won’t read this part, I can say this: I needed someone that could_ _keep me from going crazy._

_It was a wild ride. One year later, and I still can’t quite believe what happened. Or where we all are because of it. Married and almost-married (don’t deny it, Ackles). Who would have guessed?_

_Definitely not me._

_I’m glad I had the courage of facing the unknown, an unknown that proved to be a journey with a Jared Padalecki that few people have the luck to get to know. Jared and his team were welcoming, friendly, and honest._

_One of the first question I asked Jared, even before any official interviews, and one that surely interests you, dear reader, is this:_

_What is this book going to be?_

_Here is what Padalecki answered:_

_“A story. My story. With the good moments, and the bad. I want it to be honest, and I want to tell anyone who has a dream: work towards it. Work, dream, and never abandon the idea of getting better. It’s not easy, and, at the same time, it is as easy as you make it. I want to inspire people – not to play tennis, but to understand that it’s only them who can do better for themselves, and working towards a goal is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself. I am a product of my best moments, and yet, I am someone built on mistakes. I am someone who fights every day to to live life to the fullest. I want to share that. Maybe someone will get it; maybe someone will close the book, and say, ‘I can do it’ – and that would be the greatest win of my career.”_

_I needed a long time to figure out where those words came from._

_This is the story of the road to being a champion. This is the story of a man who couldn’t be more human._

_I encourage you to discover it._

_Danneel Harris-Morgan_  
  
  


_~_  
  


 

PARIS, OCTOBER 2016

Jared’s hands are warm, calloused fingers grazing across Jensen cheeks. Jensen can’t stop the way his eyelids flutter closed with the pleasure of anticipation, the thrum of desire that surges whenever Jared kisses him.

Jared’s soft lips press to Jensen’s, slow, tentative, until Jensen grabs Jared’s leather jacket, pulls him so their bodies are flush together, hot, but shivering even through all the layers of clothes.

It’s –

If eternity would be this, the feeling that seeps into every inch of his skin with every second it passes –

Jensen knows what this is.

He’s in love.

Jensen’s letting himself fall, trusting Jared will be there to catch him. It’s exhilarating, and terrifying –  but even more frightening is the idea that he could have never gotten to feel this.

He pulls back, fingers still gripping Jared’s clothes.

Jared’s cheeks are flushed, eyes glassy and unfocused.

Well, maybe Jensen’s not the only one who’s jumping head first into this.

“Jesus,” Jared whispers shallowly. “You taste so good.” 

“Fuck,” Jensen says, closing his eyes for a second. “Don’t say that. I’m not getting arrested for public indecency.”

Jared arches an eyebrow. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Jensen nudges him with his elbow, but Jared retaliates by pulling him close, forcing him to snuggle under Jared’s shoulder and looping his arm around Jared’s waist.

They stay silent for a few moments, enjoying the view of the Seine on a cloudy Friday afternoon.

When Jared speaks, his tone is low, but firm.

“Jensen,” the seriousness in his voice putting Jensen on high alert, “I think we need to talk.”

Jensen nods, a little unsure.

“No, it’s not – I have to tell you something,” Jared adds, sensing the tension in Jensen’s body.

Jared unravels from their tangle of limbs and faces Jensen squarely.

“I’m retiring. This is my last year on the tour.”

“Um – that’s – why?” Jensen replies, frowning.

He’s confused. Jared had been doing great. After a slow start to the year, he’d consistently increased his level of play, to the point where he was sweeping every trophy. Experts were amazed at the comeback, predicted a new era of Padalecki dominance on the courts.

“Well – that was always the plan,” Jared says, looking straight in Jensen’s eyes. “It’s something my father said,” he adds.

Jensen listens attentively. Jared hardly ever talks about his dad.

“He hasn’t been the world’s best father,” Jared continues, “but back when I started playing tennis and he was driving me to practice, we talked. And, after I won my first tournament, you know what he said?”

Jensen shakes his head.

“He told me it’s hard getting to the top, but even harder staying there. This year was –“

He searches for words, words that Jensen doesn’t have, either, because he doesn’t know where Jared’s going.

“It was better than I could have ever imagined,” Jared finishes. “But realistically, I can’t sustain that level of play, not at my age.”

Jensen laughs.

He gets it – thirty-four isn’t old, but it’s on the far end in the tennis world. The physical – and mental – requirements to remain an elite athlete at that age are too much.

But it’s dissonant to hear Jared say that, because he looks – he acts – like a kid still.

Jared truly seems to be enjoying his time, not just with Jensen, but with Sky, too. So much that Jensen’s allowed himself to think about a future, when the pieces fit together.

“Okay, so, um – what’s the plan now?” he asks Jared, coming back to reality.

Jared shrugs. “Getting more involved in the organization. Having a quiet, peaceful life. Doing good for others.” He smiles at Jensen, small curve of his lips. “Being with you. Getting to know Sky.”

Jensen grins back. “That’s a lot of dreams for an old man.”

“I’ll show you old man,” Jared replies, heat in his eyes.

“Oh, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Not in public. Later,” Jared promises with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

When you have a boyfriend that looks like Jared, and looks at _you_ the way Jared does, it’s hard to stop the X-rated train of thoughts.

“So. What now?” Jensen whispers, reaching for Jared’s hand, pulling him forward.

“I don’t know.”

Uncertainty has always scared Jensen.

But now, he’s learnt to look at it not preparing for all the things that can go bad, but for all the possibilities it offers.

Jensen has to pick up Sky from her shopping date with Danneel. Jared will meet Jeff to prepare for the match tomorrow.

Strings of days like these – quiet, normal, boring – those are Jensen’s dream.

They will hit bumps in the road. They’ll fight. They won’t understand each other all the time. Jensen knows all that. But now he has faith – in himself, in the fluid nature of life. Good, bad, it all passes. Live in the moment.

He kisses Jared softly one more time.

This moment is perfect, and that’s all that matters right now.


End file.
